Return to Lyme
by Beagairbheag
Summary: What if, upon reaching Uppercross, Frederick made a decision that changed the whole course of the story? Persuasion based story, because there are far too few of them.
1. Chapter 1

_I'm bored and suffering from a small case of writers block, which strangely enough only seems to be affecting my typing work and not my hand written stuff. Try work that one out. Maybe I'm just lazy…_

_So I thought I'd give you chapter one of my new story and see if your reviews spur me into action. Well, that's the hope anyway. I'm going to go for a chapter a week, so providing I have internet access next Friday, you'll get an update. If not, then I promise a double update between then and the next Friday._

* * *

Captain Wentworth emerged from the Great House without a backward glance, though the wails and shouts must have been distracting to him. Especially when his name could be heard being mentioned over and over again, twined with Louisa's and that of Lyme.

Anne still stood on the gravel path, where she had remained when he had entered the house, followed by Henrietta a few moments later. She was allowing the commotion to die down a little till she followed Henrietta inside. She knew that if she entered now, there would be mass hysteria and she would have no control over anything. No, she had best leave it a little while till things where more settled. Besides, it was a close family time, and they needed one another's comfort first and foremost.

Wentworth paused beside her on his walk out as though he meant to say something. Standing by her, he let his gaze linger out towards the way that they had come and he was silent. Anne assumed that his mind was back with Louisa, and in way, she was right.

Frederick was thinking whether they had given in too easily, Charles and him. Whether it had been right to leave Mrs Mary Musgrove behind when it was clear that she was not a suitable nurse for anyone. Anne would have stayed, should have been the one to stay behind. After his foolish mistake, Louisa should have the best care and he had said it himself, none so better as Anne. She alone would have been best to nurse her. To bring her back to full health.

The carriage came round the corner just then, lead by one of the stable hands. Fresh horses had been tethered up and they where raring to go, pawing at the ground with nervous energy. And yet he stood, unmoving. Still silent.

Anne remained where she was, uncertain as to why he waited. She had just opened her mouth to speak when he suddenly brought his gaze round to her, and fixed her with such a stare, that she was left unable to say what she was going to not moments before. Unable even to think, nor to respond to his next amazing statement. Which would have left her speechless had she not already been stripped of that power.

"Will you return with me?"

The stable hand shouted out to him then and Wentworth waved him off, before grabbing one of her hands and holding onto it between two of his own. He shook slightly, and she could feel the tremor radiate through his hand to hers.

"I mean no disrespect on your family, but your sister is not someone I would wish as a nurse to anyone. She does not seem the sort to have a, a level head in these sort of situations. Will you return with me and care for her? For Louisa?"

He spoke with such feeling, that she could not refuse him. Glancing down at their clasped hands, and fighting the urge to twine her fingers with his, she nodded.

"Thank you," he breathed. The relief evident in his voice. Anne then had the impression that he was clearly not thinking straight as he bent down a little and kissed the top of her head. By the time her head had snapped up to look at him, he was already on the move, talking with the stable hand and asking for another blanket to be placed within for her comfort.

Frederick had not been thinking, and would not think of that particular moment again till the following morning, when he would be woken by his inner conscious replying the scene whilst he slept. His main thoughts at the very moment where back in Lyme, back to the woman lying unconscious in bed because he had not been strong enough to say that enough was enough.

Anne looked helplessly between the door and the carriage, unsure of what to do. Should she go inside to let them know she was heading back to Lyme? Would she be able to extract herself in time as to not hold their journey up? Would they miss her if she decided just to go?

Would they notice her if she stayed?

Her mind was made up a moment later, when Captain Wentworth returned and laid a hand gently on her arm. Bending low, he spoke to her. His voice was serene and calm, with a small hint of a wish to be gone.

"Are you ready?"

"I was wondering whether I should let them know I was going back?" she told him, selfishly enjoying the feel of his hand upon her arm and the way she held his attention. For that time at least.

"I shall instruct someone to let them know once things have calmed down a little. I shall also make sure some of your things are brought to Lyme tomorrow, even if I have to come here and bring them to you myself."

She was gratified by his willingness, and allowed herself to be led to the carriage and handed in. There was a little more space this time, since Henrietta was no longer with them, though the enclosed quarters of the carriage where still too small for them to sit and not be affected by one another for such a time.

Thankfully, for both of them, she fell asleep on the way there and the awkward silence they where becoming accustomed to, was replaced with a steady, sleep filled one. The effects of the day finally taking there toll on Anne.

Though there was an evident need to return to Lyme as quickly as possible, Frederick slowed the carriage down slightly so that she might sleep uninterrupted, that she might not be woken by the bumping and jostling of travelling down the road and be fresh once they reached their destination.

His thoughts where dominated by those actions of Lyme, but as the journey went on, he felt part of him open up to her. Parts that had been closed for little over eight years.

She had fallen asleep against the side of the carriage, unwilling even, to bridge the gap between them in sleep. And he could not blame her. He had not been the most…pleasant, nor welcoming towards her since they had renewed their acquaintance. He scoffed, he could hardly call what they had, as an acquaintance. And that was his doing.

The blanket slipped from her shoulders and he reached over to adjust it, sliding in his seat so that he was more centred. As he pulled it up, so that it covered her more, she shifted, turning her head and coming to rest on his shoulder. He stilled, unsure as to how to react. He took his gaze from the road and allowed it to rest on her, turning back to the road only when it was necessary to correct the horses and prevent them from ending up in a ditch. It would not do well, he surmised, to end up injuring themselves in the process.

He allowed her to rest there and a small amount of joy in the fact that she could find some peace while beside him.

They arrived back in Lyme near midnight, the journey having taken slightly longer due to the darkness and one sleeping passenger. Frederick had been racking his brain to think of a way he might remove Anne's head from his shoulder, when she had done so herself after a particularly long turn to the left. She woke not long after to the calls and exclamations of the stable hands at the inn.

They left the horses, and the carriage, at the inn without bothering to check whether anyone was there. Expecting them all to be situated at the Harville's. They walked the relatively short distance to the Harville's abode with the help of a hand held lamp, her hand upon his arm as he led the way down the pitch black streets carrying only a small lantern.

Their arrival caused some amusement between the two Harville's, with man and wife both sharing a glance. Mrs Harville convinced that Frederick had done so, so that his beloved, who lay in a near comatose state above, could have the best care.

Captain Harville, who had prior and private knowledge on what had occurred between the two new arrivals at his door, was slightly more confused. Frederick's actions over the last few days had been puzzling him to no end, yet he had not had the chance to express his views on the subject, for they had always been in company with someone else and never alone.

They soon learnt that Mary had returned to the inn, citing a headache as her cause to retire for the night. Charles was fast asleep in a chair by the fire, a blanket tossed carefully over him. Riding gloves where grasped tightly in his hand in case he had to make a hasty journey on horseback home, bearing news he did not want to bring. They all hoped that it wouldn't come to that.

Reiterating her desires, that a small bed might be made up on the floor of Louisa's bed chamber might do, Anne refused a bed in Captain Benwicks room. Unwilling to kick the young Captain out of his own room.

"I would much rather be near Louisa, in case anything needed to be done during the night," Anne had insisted.

In the end, no one could make her change her mind. Frederick had not even tried, and it had not even entered into his train of thought till long after, that he had never seen her so adamant, so determined to see something through that nothing would have changed her mind.

And that, was how the first night passed.

_p.s Yes, I know. It is a very bad idea to start yet another new story when I have so many still needing completed. Its a very, very bad habit of mine._


	2. Chapter 2

Because I know for definate that I wont have any internet access on Friday, I'm giving you the second chapter now (arent I nice?). There isnt an awful lot that goes on in this one, and we are in some ways, building to what will happen over the next couple of chapters.

And be aware, something will happen. An event that will help Frederick see clearly, and finally listen to his heart. But will it be all too late?

...god that sounds cheesy

* * *

The sun was just beginning to rise over the still, calm water of the sea, when Anne was woken the next morning by Margaret Harville calling her name softly.

Having had less than six hours sleep in a proper bed, which wasn't really a proper bed but a pile of sheets set up hastily on the floor, Anne had difficulty waking properly and functioning with her usual composure, and it took her longer to emerge from the pile of sheets than it would have done, had she have gotten a proper nights sleep.

Wiping away the sleep from beneath her eyes and careful not to disturb Louisa, she shrugged out of the borrowed nightdress and put on one of the dresses she had left behind before setting off on the wild ride home, and back again, last night. Someone had obviously been over to the inn, either early this morning or late last night, and picked up her clothes that she had left behind.

Once she had finished, and had made herself presentable, she went downstairs.

The stove was going in the small kitchen area as Margaret Harville and her children's maid readied the breakfast. Shooing her to the table when she tried to help, Anne sat herself down and was instantly handed a cup of tea as well as a plate of toast.

She continued to watch the woman of the house, and the maid who had been with her for years, interact with one another as they continued to cook food and ready the table for an on slot of hungry mouths. The Harville's had 4 kids, Anne learned. The eldest being eight years old and the youngest just five months old, with the two in between being aged three and six.

The youngest, a wee boy, was currently asleep in the corner of the kitchen but woke as a pot was banged on the stove and began to wail. As both the other woman where busy, Anne jumped up, happy to be of some use to the people she was currently imposing on. Picking the child up from the cot and settling him on her shoulder, he instantly calmed.

Smiling at how easily her son calmed to the young woman's touch, Margaret handed Anne a pre-prepared bottle and asked her if she would mind feeding him. Smiling her agreement, Anne placed herself in the old rocking chair in the corner, rested the baby in the crook of her arm and began feeding him.

He was almost all the way through the bottle when Captain Wentworth and Captain Harville entered the kitchen, the latter almost knocking the former over after Wentworth had stopped suddenly at the sight of Anne with the child.

She didn't notice his arrival right away, her attention being focused on the babe in her arms, making sure that he didn't finished the bottle and continue sucking on nothing but air. An action that would cause him nothing but wind and discomfort. She was lifting him onto her shoulder when she spotted the gentlemen in the doorway. Blushing from the intense gaze that Captain Wentworth was giving her, she muttered a good morning to them both.

Stepping round his friend, Harville walked the couple of steps towards Anne and took the child from her,

"He makes a terrible mess, after feeding," he said. Sitting himself down at the table and hoisting the child onto his shoulder, his wife placing a used rag over the very same shoulder. "I would not want you to have to change clothes when you have only just out them on for the day."

"It would have been no trouble," she insisted.

"Nonsense," Harville told her. "You are already doing so much. I do not want to add yet another chore onto your daily tally."

"It is no chore really. He is a much more placid child than either of my sisters two."

"He is a good child," Margaret said, placing several plates down on the table. "Doesn't cry as much as the other three did." She smiled down at the child who was currently closing his eyes on his fathers shoulder.

"Nothing like his namesake, aye Frederick?"

"Name one time my friend, when you have seen me cry for a meal." Came Frederick's reply as he took up a knife and fork, and tucked into his breakfast.

"Never cry, no. But you moan and whine enough to be mistaken for a bairn."

Shaking his head and ignoring the light laughter that emitted from those seated round the table, Frederick continued to eat. Trying to ignore the young woman in the corner who had already thrown him for six once already this morning.

He had not been expecting to walk into the small dining area in the Harville's home, to be immediately confronted by the sight of her. Let alone the sight of her with a babe in her arms, looking as though it belonged there. So natural, that his mind had been immediately thrown into another time, one in his own mind, where he had once pictured them as a family unit.

He had imagined she would be good with kids, would teach them and love them the way children should be. They would be a credit to her, any children that she had.

He remembered a recent time too. When she had been prevented from attending the very first dinner at the Musgroves due to caring for her nephew. Her sister, Mrs Mary Musgrove, had said at the time that Anne was able to stay as she did not have a mothers feelings. In the small part of his mind that was not revelling in the fact that she was not there - that he would not meet her again just yet - had thought that it was more likely to be the other way round. Anne cared deeply for everyone and everything, and at one time, even for himself.

The child, instead of falling asleep, woke and in only the way that a babe without words can, demanded the attention of his father. Who himself was trying to eat his breakfast using one hand.

Anne's hands reached in again and plucked the child from Captain Harville's shoulder, turning away from the group seated at the table as to avoid any entreaties not too. Frederick watched her seat herself back down in the rocking chair, rocking it back gently and sitting the child on her lap. Stimulating him into interacting with her through singing lightly to him and lightly caressing his little hands as he happily bounced on her lap.

"I would have thought to have found you both up in Louisa's room this morning," Frederick found himself asking. The moment after he had spoken, he inwardly winced. His observation had come out harsher than he had intended.

Anne looked up sharply and catching his expression, quickly gathered herself up, made her excuses and headed up stairs after dropping the child back into his cradle gently. The wee boy began to murmur as soon as she let him go, his discomfort increasing as soon as he realised she wasn't coming back to pick him up again.

"There was no need for that Frederick," Margaret Harville let her guest know as she went to comfort the child. "Miss Louisa is not going anywhere, and was fine when I checked on her not twenty minutes ago. Miss Anne could have sat down here for a little longer. She'll be on her own for most of the time during the next couple of days anyway, some company would have done her good."

"I consider myself appropriately admonished, Margaret. In my defence, I did not mean it to come out as it did."

"It is not me you should be apologising too, Frederick. You can not take it out on others just because Miss Louisa is injured and you are worried about her. It is not right."

"Next time I see her, I shall tell her I am sorry," Frederick promised.

Harville watched the whole thing with a slight smile upon his lips and a query in his mind. He understood that Frederick was indeed worried about Miss Louisa (how could he not be) but Harville was still trying to work out how far the worry stretched. In the household he alone, baring the two people in question, knew the whole back story between Frederick and Miss Anne Elliot.

Harville knew that this meeting between the two of them eight years later, must excite some feelings on Fredericks side. Of hers he did not know, but he had noticed that she avoided Frederick as much as she could whilst watching him equally as much, and Harville found it difficult to believe that she was unaffected by his return into her life.

Where Miss Louisa fitted in, he was not too sure. Before her accident, and though they had only spent maybe a day in each others company, he saw that the young lady preferred Frederick to anyone else in the group and could often be found hanging onto his elbow.

As to Fredericks preferences, he could not say. His friend lapped up the attention, but could often be seen glancing in another direction as if to check that this simpering and fawning was being observed by one of the group in particular.

He shook his head, his pondering would do no good at the moment. There was work to be done within the house and a sick woman to be taken care off, and made right before anything was decided.

"You should not pay Frederick much heed, my dear," Mrs Harville told her when she joined Anne in Louisa's sick room a little while later.

Looking up from dabbing Louisa's brow with a cold compress, Anne smiled at her. "He was right," she answered truthfully. "I should be watching over her, just in case there is a sudden change and the surgeon must be fetched."

Margaret Harville frowned.

"It would do you no good to spend your entire day within this room Miss Elliot. We would not wish you to fall ill as well," the other woman said to her. Turning back to her charge, Anne continued to wash her face, clearing away any trace of dirt and sweat that lingered.

The local surgeon arrived a short while later with Charles Musgrove arriving not far behind him. Anne sat quietly by the window as the man looked over his latest patient, noting that she had not yet woken from her slumber. The prognosis of last night was to stand; there was no injury to any other part of her body apart from the head, and the skin on that had not been broken either, merely bruised.

The surgeon, a local man how had been in the neighbourhood for a long time, said to himself that he had never yet met such a capable young woman of the higher social circle. He was impressed with the young lady who was to be his patients nurse while she was in need of one. She asked intelligent questions and listened to what he said with great interest. He felt no worries about leaving his patient in her hands.

Charles, though a little shocked to see Anne when she emerged from Louisa's room with the surgeon, was glad. He had thought that it would be a good idea to have someone from the family to nurse his sister and knew himself that his wife was not the best choice. He had had no fight left in him last night to argue any further, and accepted the decision. It was not that he didn't trust the Harville's, he thought them the best of people, he just felt that his sister would appreciate a friendly and known face when she finally woke.

And there was no doubt in Charles' mind, she would wake. And when she did, it would do her good to see a familiar face such as Anne's.

As Frederick himself had said the previous night, no one so good, so capable as Anne, to take care of his sister when she so desperately needed it.


	3. Chapter 3

_I wrote the first two chapters and then skipped ahead to the fifth, sixth and seventh. It was a stupid thing to do as I now want to go on to the eighth, ninth and tenth, and I don't want to go backwards. That is the sole reason that this is coming to you so late. That and I'm the laziest procrastinator ever._

_Oh, no. What is to come has nothing to do with Benwick…not really. He pretty much plays the same sort of role he does in the books. I just forgot to include him in the last chapter so thanks for reminding me._

* * *

The knock on the door startled her out of her musings.

"One moment," she called out as she settled down her embroidery on the small table set up beside the bed, before standing up and straightening out her clothes.

Making sure that the blankets on the bed covered Louisa completely and retained her modesty, Anne settled back on the chair before calling out to whoever was on the other side.

It was Captain Benwick's head that came into view around the corner of the door. The young man kept his eyes firmly on the far away wall, refusing to look in any other direction in case he caused offence or embarrassment.

"It is alright, Captain Benwick," Anne said with a smile before he spoke, "It is safe to come in."

Benwick entered the room fully then. His gaze fell upon the young woman in the bed and Anne saw a flurry of emotion cross his face just then as his thoughts automatically flew back another in his life who had succumbed to illness not too long ago.

Shifting his gaze to the side, Benwick noted the sheets that Anne had spent the night on. "Are you sure you can not be persuaded to take the bed in my room?" he asked, knowing that Anne could not be that comfortable sleeping on the floor.

"I'm best served here," Anne told him as she motioned for him to take a seat in the other chair that had been set up. Charles had sat in it himself for several hours earlier on in the day till Anne had managed to cajole him into going out for a bit with the Captains Harville and Wentworth. "For the first few days at least, I think it best that I stay close, especially through the night. Just in case I'm needed."

Benwick nodded slowly and seemed lost in thought for a few moments. He held up the book in his hands. "I thought I might keep you company and read to you. If you don't not mind that is?" he asked.

Anne's smile coaxed one of his own.

"I would love it. Have you brought anything in particular?"

Benwick handed the book over to her so that she might peruse it. "I have taken your advice and gone for some of my favourite verse. I thought it might lighten up the mood."

"You've chosen well," Anne said, handing it back to him. "Perhaps our patient might enjoy it as well, and be inclined to waken."

With another quick look at Louisa, and a nod of the head, Benwick opened the book, took a stance by the small window and began to read.

Anne found herself settling back into the chair till she found a comfortable position and she let his voice wash over her. With the swell of the sea also reaching her ears, she found it increasingly difficult to keep her eyes open and was soon lulled to sleep by the timbre of both.

Benwick was so caught up in the words that it took him a while to notice that he now had two unconscious listeners instead of one. Leaving the room quietly, he returned moments later with Margaret Harville, who smiled to herself at the sight in front of her, shaking her head slightly, before checking the young patient then her nurse maid.

Drawing a blanket from a nearby chest, she carefully wrapped in round the woman in the chair and left her sleeping. Margaret tiptoed quietly out of the room, closing the door behind her quietly. The young woman had spent the entire day in the small confined room with Miss Louisa as her only companion, even refusing to come downstairs for lunch, insisting that something simple be brought up to her.

Anne had earned her rest.


	4. Chapter 4

_Oirishgoddess - Your reviews are always a highlight in the aftermath of a chapter. No matter when they come, they are always appreciated._

_Kapioleni - I'm working on it…promise!_

_Now, I know that I said that I had chapters 5 to 7 already written, and while that is true they may move up one or two places. Eg 5 might become 7 and so forth. The reason being that I have to fit in two weeks worth of stuff before we hit the part that's been prewritten._

_Its nice to be able to finally post this :D_

* * *

The men returned from their jaunt a little before dinner time, being with them Mary from the inn. Charles, though anxious to she his sister, heeded Margaret Harville's advice and refrained from going upstairs to see his sister for a little while.

It was at the insistance of Mary, after an hour of near constant nagging, that Margaret finally relented and made her way upstairs to see how both woman where doing. She was somewhat surprised to find Anne awake and tending to her patient.

"I would have though you to be still asleep," she said quietly as she entered the room.

Anne looked back over her shoulder and smiled. "I was, but then I thought I heard her moan."

Margaret knelt down beside her at the side of the bed. "Has she made any noise since?"

"She is a little more responsive than she was. I'm hoping that that is a good sign."

Looking down at the young woman, little more than a girl, Margaret noticed some improvements from the previous day and even since the morning. Her complexion was far improved from the death like shade she had been sporting. Her breathing, though Margaret was no trained surgeon, looked better and more steady.

While Charles and, for a short time, Mary sat with Louisa, Margaret convinced Anne to sit with her in the kitchen and eat something. The two woman where sitting talking quietly about the situation they found themselves in when the door to the kitchen swung open to admit Captains Wentworth and Benwick.

The former pulled to a holt once he noticed who was in the room and completely missed the smile that graced the face of his companion. He did not miss the one that Anne returned, thinking to himself that it had been a long time since he had seen her as such.

Benwick stepped round Frederick, barely giving him a glance and made his way to the table. "It is good to see you looking rested, Miss Anne."

She laughed and Fredericks ears perked up.

"I have you to thank for that Captain Benwick. You have a wonderful voice," she told him as he took a seat beside them at the table.

Frederick continued to stand by the door as Benwick engaged Anne in light conversation. He wasn't sure how he should be feeling, seeing them getting along so well.

He had thought that Benwick's heart was too far gone, that he had given too much of himself to Fanny to jump into another attachment, especially one so quickly (if that was indeed what he was working towards), and Anne…he never wanted to think of her opening her heart to another. Even when he wasn't sure if she had any feelings left for him, or if he could allow his anger to seep away and accept them.

He sighed heavily and this drew the attentions of Margaret who totally misunderstood his reason for doing so. "You can go up and see her if you wish. Her brother is with her at present."

Frederick shook his head. "I wouldn't want to intrude." he said, before taking a place at the table.

Benwick hardly paid him any attention at all, merely continued to go on about a book that he thought Anne might be interested in, and whether she thought it might be of suitable genre to be read aloud. Anne did not acknowledge him either, thought her gaze flickered across to him as he sat down opposite her.

After pouring himself a cup of tea, Frederick settled back in his chair and did his utmost best to appear as though he was not entirely focused on the two people sitting opposite him and the conversation they where having. He failed miserably.

It was Margaret who left the table first, having to go and tend to her children who would require feeding soon, leaving Frederick, Benwick and Anne alone in the kitchen. Though he thought that he might have imagined it, a look of fear or apprehension seemed to flash in Anne's eyes as Benwick stood up not long after and announced that he should be off immediately to pick up the very book they had been discussing.

After he left silence descended on the room and the two occupants within.

Anne fidgeted with the cup in her hands, the tea still to warm to be gulped down within a matter of seconds. Setting the cup down she opened her mouth, to say what she wasn't too sure but didn't matter, Frederick spoke first.

"You are looking well," he said whilst staring at the table.

"I am not the one unwell."

"No," he conceded, "But the sea air has done you good." Finally looking up, only to find that she was looking out of the small kitchen window onto the sea. He was not wrong. The young, youthful woman he had known eight years ago had been hiding behind a tired mask since he had returned into her acquaintance, but here she was again and he found himself no less taken with her features and her person. He was fooling himself if he didn't think otherwise.

Her "Thank you," was quite and slightly drowned out by the crashing of the waves on the harbour wall but he still heard it. His ears picking up her lightest tones.

"I want to apologise for this morning," he said after a slight pause. "It was not my place to have a go at you for not being with Louisa. I should have realised that you need your rest too and can not be with her every hour of the day."

Anne shook her head.

"No," she said, turning so that she was facing him directly. "You were right. Someone should have been watching over her. Just in case her condition changed and a surgeon was needed."

"Yes, but I didn't mean you had to be there all the time though. You'd make yourself ill if you where."

Anne looked directly at him, a level of steely determination evident in her eyes. "You brought me here to nurse her, and that is what I shall be do." Then quietly, "You should not worry about me."

She left him them, sitting in the quiet kitchen, to reflect on her words. It almost sounded as though she did not expect him to take her health and comfort into consideration. He scoffed at the idea as soon as he thought of it.

Anne knew he cared. Didn't she?


	5. Chapter 5

_Can someone let me know what colour of eyes Frederick has? Are they even mentioned in the book?_

_One more chapter, maybe two, before we get into all the prewritten stuff. Oh the excitement! Though I'm a tad bit worried that I'm building this all up and that the end result wont be what I hope it will._

* * *

At the last count the clock had chimed one and Anne was beginning to feel her eyelids start to droop.

Getting up from the chair she had claimed as her own since she had taken residence, she did another turn of the room; moistening Louisa's lips, checking the blankets and other general duties that kept her occupied and awake.

The clock chimed two when she finally sat down again, more tired than awake.

The last three days had been a continuous routine that rarely differed day to day. In the early hours of the morning she would catch a few hours sleep once Margaret or her general maid Martha where up. She would have breakfast downstairs, at Margaret's insistence, before spending the day in Louisa's room waiting for any signs of recovery.

She usually had three definite visitors. Margaret, who would ply her with refreshment and oat cakes when she wasn't running around after her children. Charles who came to sit with his sister for a few hours, usually after lunch leaving Anne a short while to have something herself, and Captain Benwick who had taken it upon himself to keep her company in the afternoon hours and often in the evening as well.

For three days she had seen little of Frederick.

She sighed,_ 'Captain Wentworth,'_ she thought to herself. _'I must get used to calling him Captain Wentworth. Frederick is more personal than we shall ever be again.'_

He was never anywhere, at the same time, that she was and on the brief chance that they did happen to pass one another or be part of the same group, their words where stilted and monosyllabic. Especially after their conversation the first morning she had been here.

It was one of the thing she mourned the most about the break up of their relationship, the ease at which they had once conversed. Even before it had taken a romantic turn, their words had always been free and flowing. Never an awkward silence between them.

_'Well,'_ she thought, thinking back to when they had both been at loose for words. _'She wouldn't call them awkward though. Not exactly.'_

It had surprised her though, that he had not been to see Louisa. She knew from Captain Benwick and Margaret that he had asked about her, though those concerned enquiries where coupled with enquiries after Anne's own health in the present situation, and she had to wonder just how deep his attachment for Louisa was. He had had ample opportunity to visit, both in the company of Charles, and any other member of the household who would have been happy to sit with him while he kept vigil over her. Anne had even offered to make herself scarce one afternoon if he did not wish her to be in attendance.

All had returned with a negative, though he had said that he thought she should take an afternoon of anyway. For herself, so that she did not tire herself out. She shook her head a little, in the eight years since they had parted, he had become a very complicated man.

She knew he had to be feeling guilty. Guilty that she had jumped. Guilty that he had not caught her. Guilty that he had even started the whole game to begin with. Knowing Frederick he was feeling guilty for a lot more things, things that where not his fault nor under his control.

She was yanked sharply from her thoughts of better days, by a sudden groan and movement from the bed. Rising from her seat and throwing the rug from her, she knelt by the head of the bed, her face inches from that of her sisters.

"Louisa?" she breathed.

Her hand found the young woman's shoulder, which she gripped gently and shook. Louisa moaned weakly trying to shake Anne off but still she did not open her eyes.

Anne was torn. She wanted to stay with Louisa just in case the girl opened her eyes. It would do her good to see a friendly face so that she did not panic and injure herself further. Anne also knew that now would be a good time to fetch the surgeon. She tried calling her name again and though Louisa continued to make noise, she ceased to thrash about as much.

Anne made a decision.

Grabbing her cloak from the corner of the room, she hastily tried to wrap it round her shoulders whilst opening the door at the same time. Suffice to say that in her hurry, the cloak got tangled in her legs just as she took her first step over the threshold and she pitched forward, right into a warm, solid chest.

The owner of the chest wrapped his arms about her, preventing her from hitting the ground, and the subsequently went tumbling backwards into a wall. His back solidly hitting it with a dull thump with Anne clamped tightly to her chest, her hands planted firmly between them.

A quick look up, even in the darkness, was enough to tell Anne who it was. Looking down did her no good either as it only brought her the knowledge that he was far from being dressed as to be in her company.

A plain cotton nightshirt did a poor job of covering his top half while the lower consisted of a pair of britches. He had been walking about bare foot. All of which she found strange when she thought of it later as he was supposed to have a room at the inn.

Why he had been stalking the halls at the Harville's dressed as he was, she could only guess.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his voice quiet yet gruff. Even in the darkened state of the hallway, with only the faint candle light shining out from the room that Anne had just left, she could see his eyes clearly.

She was saved from answering when a groan could be heard from within the room. Fredericks arms tightened round her for a fraction of a second as he looked up. He looked back down at Anne, "She's awake?" he asked. A spark of something was visible in his gaze for a second, gone before Anne could fully recognise it.

She nodded. And waited.

He caught her eyes again and held them. Anne was not sure how long they stood there, side by side just looking at one another. She watched as he studied her face and took a minute to memorise the features of his that had long ago been ingrained in her mind.

Frederick opened his mouth to speak, when a particularly loud groan sounded from the room and Anne spun in his arms. Pushing gently against him so that he loosened his grip she made as though to continue on into the room, coming up short when she felt his hand wrap round her wrist.

"Anne,"

She pursed her lips, "She needs a surgeon."

His gaze darted from her then back into the room again as another noise came from within. Slowly he let her hand go, trailing his fingers down hers as her hand dropped to her side.

"I'll fetch him."

Anne turned to go back into the room as he made his way down the short hallway. He had reached the head of the chairs when he heard his name being called.

"Frederick?"

Turning back he saw her leaning out the door, "Bring Charles back with you as well."

He nodded his head and let his eyes close before giving himself a little shake before going downstairs and heading out into the night.


	6. Chapter 6

_I was hoping to have this up earlier, but I had a presentation to do and I thought it might be a good idea to actually do some work on it._

_This chapter felt a little forced, but that just might have been me going through a small brick wall. Now I just have to decide whether to move onto the prewritten stuff, or have a connecting chapter first. Hmm, decisions._

* * *

For an early morning in late October Anne found the beach surprisingly warm. She sat alone on a rock high up from the breaking surf, a shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders, as she watched the shadows spread out before her as the sun rose at her back.

The surgeon had returned speedily to see his patient with Charles hot on his heels. Louisa's brother had been prevented from seeing her though till the doctor had finished his examination and had to result to peppering Anne with questions instead.

Once the surgeon had left, after speaking with Anne for several minutes, praising yet scolding the level of care she had bestowed on Louisa, Charles had entered his sisters sick room and fixed himself to her side. Mary had stayed in her bed at the inn.

After an hour of mumbled words and disjointed sentences, that they where assured would sort itself out after a couple of days, Charles decided that Louisa had improved enough for him to make the short trip to Uppercross to fetch his mother and sister so that they might see for themselves.

As he was going, Anne bade him to pay a quick call at Kellynch Lodge and make Lady Russell aware of the situation. It would be up to Lady Russell herself whether she wanted to proceed to Bath without Anne or wait.

Anne wasn't too sure how long she would remain in Lyme. Louisa may have woken but she was a long way away from being fully fit again.

Frederick had not returned with either Charles or the surgeon and she had not seen him since he had gone in search of them in the early hours of the morning.

It surprised her that he had not been back. That he had yet to see, for himself, that Louisa was on the mend and would seemingly suffer no lasting effects from her fall. That had to please him, she was sure of it.

The sun continued to rise at her back and for a while she just sat and tracked the shadows making their way across the ground, trying to mentally work out how long it was that she had been sitting there. She was so caught up in that and her thoughts, that she failed to notice the noise and movement of the rocks behind her till another shadow joined hers on the ground as a body joined hers on the rock.

Anne didn't need to turn to see who it was. She already knew.

They weren't touching, not even a tiny bit, but she felt it every time he breathed or shifted. Every movement she made herself, felt forced and deliberate.

"I do not know how I can thank you," he said after a long silence broken only by the breaking of the waves on the shore, "You have done so much and yet have asked for next to nothing in return." He turned to the side and looked at her, "Is there nothing we can do, nothing that I can do, to make your stay here better?"

"To see Louisa well again, that is payment enough," Anne replied honestly. "Have you seen her?" Changing the subject away from her and to another source.

Frederick shook his head, "No, not yet."

Anne looked back out to the sea. "You should head back to the Harvilles and see her before she falls asleep again. I know it would provide her with some comfort if she was to see you."

"Maybe later. I'm sure having her family round her will be comfort enough." he said. Frederick removed his hat from his head and held it in his hands. "I heard the surgeon speaking with you this morning. You are doing too much."

On his way out the door, the surgeon had pulled Anne aside and spoken to her about what they might experience over the next couple of hours and days with the patient, and signs that they should look out for just in case. He had also noticed the dark circles beneath Anne's eyes and the pallor of her skin and had spoken to her about her own health. He was worried that by nursing Louisa back to health, she was endangering her own.

"I'm fine."

"Really?" he asked, tilting his head towards her.

"Really," she said, a small smile breaking through. "Louisa is a lot less demanding than my sister ever has been."

"And you've been getting enough rest?" he persisted.

"The surgeon saw me early in the morning when I would have usually been asleep," she told him, "I can understand why he thought I looked a little off colour, but really, I'm fine."

He nodded but did not look convinced.

"The sea is calm today," he said suddenly.

She looked at him and followed his gaze out onto the sea.

There was a light breeze in the air but it did not affect the body of water and it was as still as a mill pond. Anne could see the profile of his face and could imagine him standing on the upper deck of a ship looking out onto a foreign land or stretch of water. For a brief moment she placed herself at his side, travelling to somewhere unknown and exotic.

The shrill sound of a gull calling broke her from her musings and she shook her head, pushing a stray lock of hair from her face.

He stood and offered his hand to her. She looked at it before trailing her gaze up to his face before looking quickly away and pursing her lips. Turning back, she accepted it and allowed him to assist her from the rock and to her feet.

She slide her hand from his and took a sidestep away from him as soon as she was firmly on the ground. Gathering her shawl about her, she crossed her arms across her chest and looked up at him, "Shall we?" she asked, inclining her head back towards the Harville's home.

He dropped his hand to his side and absently curled his fingers into a fist, already missing the fleeting touch of her hand in his. He held out the hand that held his hat, offering her the right of way before placing the object back on her head and following her off the beach.

So they walked back together. One confused by the turn of manner in the other, and the other wondering how to make things right.

The next week passed in much the same manner as the first few days had. The Musgroves made their appearance in Lyme and spent the entire day, and much of the evening, with their daughter. In Louisa improvement could be seen in each passing hour. She was more awake and communicative by the evening, if not a little more tired. Whenever she drifted off for a nap, there would be much panic till she woke again. The surgeon had said that she might be tired and to let her rest. That although she had been unconscious for the good part of three days, her body had not really been asleep so now had to catch up with that rest.

The Musgrove's where there for two days before Mrs Musgrove saw that her daughter was in capable hands and decided to remove herself back home. In doing so, she also decided to take the elder children from under Mrs Harville to give her a holiday from them and to show their appreciation to the Harville's for opening their home to them and their daughter.

One thing that did change, was the amount of time Anne spent in Frederick's company. Unlike before, when he never seemed to be around when she was, he now seemed to he everywhere. When she ate breakfast he was there making conversation. When she took a break from being with Louisa in the evenings, when Captain Benwick read to her for an hour or two, he would sit opposite her by the fire and ask her about what she was reading.

He had yet to make a visit with Louisa. He had looked in when she had been sleeping, but refused to go upstairs when he knew she was awake. Louisa asked about him often, but apart from his daily enquiries about her health, he did not speak of her at all, even when Anne tried to steer the conversation towards the younger woman.

Anne could see the confusion in Margaret Harville's eyes as Frederick continued to avoid the young woman that had been affixed to his side when they had first arrived in Lyme, even avoiding talking about her in lew of discussing other topics. Captain Harville merely looked over the whole thing with a curious eye.

Anne was beginning to question the need for her to be in Lyme any longer. The whole situation, being with Louisa and listening to her talking about Frederick, about how much she was looking forward to travelling with him, about how he was such a gallant man; it was breaking her heart. And to have the man in question finally take notice of her and act civilly, near enough friendly to her; it wasn't helping any.

She made the decision that she was going to speak to Margaret and Charles about it. If both of them where happy with her bowing out from her nursing duties, then she would request to be taken back to Kellynch and then onto Bath. The thought of returning to Bath, a place where she found no comfort, had lessened in comparison to staying in Lyme.

To staying near him.

_I would ask if this was long enough for you all, but I know what the answer would be…_


	7. Chapter 7

_I was going to leave you lot hanging for a number of days, but you guys leave such great reviews that I thought you deserved this :)_

_After I wrote this, I did realise I had gone abit S&S with the end scene, but well...its my story._

* * *

The two men stood in the doorway, silently observing the scene in the other room as the slightly older woman read quietly to the other, lulling her into sleep. They where both seated in the corner of the room and the younger was laboriously wrapped up in a multitude of blankets to stave of any chill.

The elder had a shawl wrapped around her shoulders which kept slipping off and Frederick's fingers itched to go in and settle it more firmly around her. Or else, take another blanket and swaddle her up in it, for he knew she should be taking care of herself as well and he could clearly tell that she was not.

Looking sideways at his friend, and often commander, Harville noticed the look in his eye and returned his own gaze to the women within the room.

The younger had by then, clearly fallen asleep but the elder did not stop her reading. Merely sitting back in the chair to be more comfortable, she continued. The gentle tone of her voice flitting through the room and ensuring that her patient slept peacefully.

Tapping his friend on the shoulder, Harville motioned that they leave them to it and Frederick reluctantly agreed, tearing his gaze away from the room and those within.

Grabbing their hats and coats, they went for a walk along the sea front. Away from the house and it inhabitants. Away from the Cobb and the memories that lingered there. Away even, from the sea and all the associated memories that where carried upon its swells. Tossing them about, dashing them on rocks only to reform a moment later.

In unspoken agreement, they took a path away from the beach and up a nearby hill. Upon reaching the top the settled beside one another on a rock solely placed on the hilltop to be used as a seat for the weary.

They where silent for a good while. Each unsure where to begin or how to start, to even admit that there was a problem to be addressed and spoken about. Each not knowing if the other knew the purpose of their little jaunt, perhaps they had just fancied the walk?

It was Harville who spoke first. Deciding to take the bull by the horns, he spoke in a way that Frederick would hopefully understand, to determine if they where on the same page in their thoughts.

"Why do you not go to her?" he asked.

Beside him, Frederick dropped his head into his hands, his elbows rested upon his knees.

"She does not want my company," Frederick answered him, speaking more to the rock that they sat upon than his friend by his side.

Harville took the time to observe him. His friend looked utterly miserable. To make sure that his friend and him where really talking about the same subject, or rather, person, he continued with.

"You are all she asks for."

Frederick started, looking at Harville as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Really?" he asked, his voice tinged with hope.

"Oh, yes. Miss Musgrove enquires about you hourly. Margaret tells me she has been quite despondent because you have yet to visit her."

His friends head drooped again, and Harville decided that he should quit skirting the subject.

"But I sense she was not the one you where speaking off, nor thinking off."

"No, she was not," Frederick admitted.

"Then, my friend," Harville began with a sigh. "I feel it my duty to inform you that it is talked off, expected even; that there is an understanding between Miss Musgrove and yourself."

Again, Frederick looked up.

"An understanding?" he parroted.

"Of the marriage kind," Harville told him.

"By whom?"

"By her family. Perhaps, even the lady herself. They all expect you to offer to her once she is well again."

Frederick had turned pale. The small amount of colour that had been present on his cheeks from the walk up the steady path to the look out point, had vanished, leaving him looking sickly.

"But I have not," he began, "I never,"

"Listen to me my friend," Harville said to him seriously. "When you first arrived, even Margaret thought you to be an engaged man with the way that you were behaving. For awhile, so did I. But from previous knowledge, I knew it not to have been true. I knew you could never transfer your affections over to another whilst the one you love remains alive and unattached. You bury them deep, Frederick, your emotions, but they are there, and they shine through your eyes when you think no one is watching."

Swallowing hard, Frederick shook his head.

"I have been a fool," he said. "Chasing after another woman to satisfy my wounded pride whilst the one I truly want stands in front of me. I have been blind."

"I am glad you have said it," Harville told him, "Though I would have taken little joy in expressing the same sentiments, I would have said them for they needed to be said."

Silence fell over them again, this one longer than the last.

Harville left his friend to his thoughts, knowing that they would be heavy and rather tangled. Clearly he had not been thinking straight upon his return to shore and had made, several, wrong turns along the way.

"Do you think she expects it?" he finally asked.

"Miss Elliot?" Frederick nodded hesitantly, as though he feared the answer.

"I think that she does. It is not the first time that I have heard Miss Louisa sing your praises and talking about her perfect wedding. With the men in their full ceremonial attire and a twenty one gun solute." Harville chuckled, "Miss Anne was quick to inform her that that, was only used for funerals and was maybe something she did not want at her wedding. So, in answer to your question, I think that it is likely that she does."

If possible, Frederick turned even paler. _Oh Anne, my sweet Anne._

"Are you ok Frederick? Shall we return? You are looking rather ill."

Frederick shook his head. It all made sense to him now. Her avoidance of him, her discourse when they must speak. Her way of turning the conversation round to Louisa each and every time they conversed with one another. She believed the two of them as good as engaged, and yet, she still nursed her. Still cared for her though he knew it must cause her pain.

And she had said nothing. Through it all, she had not one bad word to say. Never had she complained or moaned about her charge or the conditions.

And he had asked her.

He felt like taking a long walk of a short plank.

He had asked the woman that he loved, for there was no point in denying what was in his heart it any longer, to nurse to health the one he had been foolishly chasing. The one everyone, including the lady herself, thought he was going to offer marriage to.

Foolish did not cover it, and he doubted there was a single word suitable enough to adequately describe how he had behaved. How he had acted.

_Oh Anne, what have I done?_

"What shall you do?"

Sliding of the rock, he began pacing. What should he do?

It was clear to him now, that he must think of himself as attached man. It pained him to think so, but he must. It had not been in his nature to play around with the feelings of woman, young impressionable woman at that, but now that he had, however unwittingly it had happened, he must stand by his actions.

Could he really enter into a loveless marriage?

He had seen many men before him do just that. Some had emerge from the other end better people, others had not. They lived with resentment and pain. That he found Louisa amiable was not to be doubted. He just felt he could not love her. Not now, not never. Perhaps come to care for her, even more than he did now, but love was out of the question.

Not while Anne was still around.

And what of Anne? Would she take steps to settle herself, to enter into the state of marriage, now that she saw that he was no longer attainable? Would she give up on ever finding love?

Ever since he had learned that she had turned down another, one more suitable than himself (at the time), he had dared to hope in the small back corner of his heart. Did she still care for him? Had that been the reason she had done it, even that long ago? Had she been waiting for a time, a moment, to meet up with him again, to be in the same acquaintance and see if the emotions they had felt still resided in them both.

If so, then he could have secured himself a happiness he had known before, in only a few meetings. They might have gone back to what they once where, and he would have been content. He would have been happy.

Now, his future is uncertain.

"Perhaps you should go away for a while, await Miss Musgrove's recovery elsewhere. With the hope that the separation might lessen the feelings, and talk, of marriage."

Frederick nodded at his friends wise words.

Edwards, he could go to Edwards. His brother would berate him once he uncovered the whole story, if he had not had it in writing from Sophia already, but Frederick reckoned that he probably needed a good talking too. It would save him from beating himself up emotionally, have someone else do it and save himself the hassle. Not that it would stop him going over and over the scenarios in his head. Go over what he should have done differently and what should never have happened.

"I shall go to Edwards," he told Harville, standing straight and looking directly at his friend.

"In Shropshire?"

"It is quite a distance, I agree. But the further the better. I do not," he began. "I could not enter into a marriage with Louisa with a clear conscious. I have used her."

"Nor a clear heart?" Harville asked.

"No," was the simple reply.

Harville nodded and resigned himself to loosing his friend in the near future.

"I will speak with Margaret. We will try our best to keep her mind occupied and keep your name from conversation. It is not much, but it may help a little."

"You have done enough already and more, my friend." They began their accent down the hill and back towards Harvilles.

"When will you leave?"

"Tomorrow morning," Frederick decided.

"The sooner the better," Harville agreed with a nod, "Though we shall miss your company."

Frederick stopped pacing and took his seat again next to his friend. They both sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, but each thinking on the same subject.

They sat there for a long time. Time enough for the dark clouds to gather on the horizon and

Elsewhere, Anne was pondering, though she found it difficult to hear her own thoughts through the pounding rain; what had encouraged her to take a walk outdoors? Mrs Harville had warned her that it looked like rain, advice she should have listened to. Especially from the wife of a navel Captain.

She had foolishly said she would not be long, just a quick walk along the beach to stretch her legs and clear her lungs. She was now getting a very thorough clean as well, having abandoned all sense of time and distance, and finding herself at least a mile from where she wanted to be when it had began to rain.

In no time she was soaked to the skin, the weight of her clothes, sodden with water, pulling her down and causing her to stop more often than she would like.

Still the rain lashed down.

By the time she had finally made it back to the Harvilles house she was shivering violently, and it was all she could do to stumble through the front door of the small home, remove her bonnet and overcoat at the front door as to avoid dripping on the Harvilles floor, before collapsing into the combined hold of both Margaret Harville and Captain Benwick. The latter having come running down the stairs from the bedrooms at the cry of alarm by Mrs Harville, a book held open in his hand.

The book itself had been hastily abandoned when he had seen Anne's eyes roll back into her head, and Benwick had stepped in to bear her weight, of what it was, with the woman he had once considered his sister in law.


	8. Chapter 8

_Thank you all for the lovely reviews :) Yes, this is the prewritten stuff so over the next week or so you should be getting updates every couple of days. I'm also on holiday for two weeks from Friday, and while I have two essays to write, I think I should hopefully be able to do a lot more work on this. And the others._

* * *

The men where making there way down from the top of the hill when the rain began to come down. Slowly at first before it began to pour. They picked their way down the path, careful not to slip and injure themselves. The bottom of the hill was not too far away from the centre of Lyme and they headed in that direction instead of towards Harville residence which was another five to ten minutes further down the road.

It began to rain more heavily then, as the men hurried down the main street in Lyme seeking refuge and they found shelter in the very inn that Frederick and Charles had been lodging in. Settling themselves in the dry, warm comfort of being indoors as the rain continued to pour down outside, they counted themselves lucky to be out of the storm and decided to settle there until the rain had abated.

Sitting by the fire, but in sight of the windows, neither man noticed, or rather paid no attention, to the blur of a figure who raced past the inns windows a while later. Though had they taken but a moment, each would have recognised him.

They missed the figure again when passed a second time. This time the man was now accompanied by another. Deep in conversation, head bowed under a large umbrella, walking as quickly as they could without flat out running, the men in the inn could be excused for not realising who it was.

The rain was just beginning to ease when they finally spotted the figure as he passed them by for the third time.

It was the figure this time who had almost missed them. Captain Benwick had been sent out again, in the rain, to look for them and had been on his way to Harville's favourite water hole when he had belatedly remembered that Frederick had been staying at the inn he had just passed and doubled back.

As he stood at the windows looking in, they signalled to him to join them. Seated as they where by the fire, the heat had dried off their clothes and it was clear that Benwick's needed the same treatment. His hair was plastered to his head and water dripped from his thick outer coat onto the floor.

As Benwick approached where they sat, both Frederick and Harville noticed how out of breath their friend was. His chest heaved as though he had been up to the crows nest, and back, several times in a row.

Gripping the back of a chair for support, Benwick attempted to get his breath back. He waved off their suggestions that they get him some refreshment.

A small knot of worry had appeared in Fredericks gut when Benwick had appeared at the door and with every second that passed as his friend took to regain his composure, the knot grew.

It only took a moment; a sideways glance at Harville, to confirm that something was vitally wrong and both of them knew it. They knew not what, but each had their suspicions.

"You're both…needed back. As soon as possible." Benwick finally managed to gasp out.

"_Oh dear god. I've killed her."_ Where the first thoughts that raced through Fredericks head at his belief that something had happened to Louisa, and that that was the reason that they where being called back. The thought that something else could have happened, never crossed his mind.

He dropped his head to his hands, thinking the worst and wondering how, if, her family was ever going to forgive him.

"Louisa?" he heard Harville ask.

Head down, Frederick missed the shake of Benwicks head and the look of panic that crossed Harvilles at the possibility of something having happened to Margaret or one of the children.

Seeing the look upon Harville's face, and taking a guess at where his thoughts might be leading him, Benwick shook his head again and said, "No."

Then…

"It is Miss Anne."

Frederick still had his head buried in his hands, his thoughts stuck for the moment on young Louisa Musgrove; a girl he had come to admire for her spirit and energy, but had fairly early on disregarded as a possible candidate for marriage. Yet he had kept on at it, kept accepting her advances. And why?

Because Anne had been there. She had been there and unavailable to him, or so his head had said.

"Miss Anne?" Harville repeated, and Benwick nodded.

Frederick, having heard Harville repeat the name, sat up straight and fixed Benwick with a look that the younger man fully remembered from his early days at sea under Captain Wentworth's command.

"Anne?" he said in a tone of disbelief. Benwick nodded.

"She was caught out in the rain," he paused and looked at Harville. "Margaret's worried. She sent for the surgeon. He's there now."

Harville felt his worry increase as he listened to Benwick. If it had been a mere cold, his wife would have gone to as much trouble as to send for the surgeon. She had dealt with her fair share of colds and sniffles over the years, and had a proven method of dealing with them. Miss Anne must be very ill for Margaret to be worried.

Benwick had barely finished speaking when Frederick leapt from his seat and bounded to the door. Harville and Benwick following him a second later after sharing a quick glance, at a slower pace.

The door out onto the street was no barrier to Frederick. He seized the handle and wrenched it open so hard that the door bounced off the back wall and slammed shut after he had stepped through it.

When Harville and Benwick headed out onto the street, Frederick was already halfway down the down it, heading in the direction of the harbour and the Harville residence.

"Frederick! Wait!" Harville called out as he struggled to catch up, cursing his leg and the pace that it held him too. Benwick merely began to wheeze again as the quickened the pace as much as Harville could.

Frederick turned then, and motioned that he was going on. He would not be stopping.

"Do not do anything foolish," where Harville's parting words as both he and Benwick watched Frederick disappear down the head and round the corner out of sight.

The surgeon was just discussing Anne's condition with Margaret Harville, the woman herself looking thoroughly concerned and worried about what she was hearing, as Frederick crashed through the door.

The surgeon, who had been in the house several times over the last two week, and was now familiar with the household and those who visited regularly, nodded and acknowledged him as he came to stand beside them, slightly out of breath for having run the final distance.

"Its all right Frederick," Margaret said, patting his arm sympathetically. "Its not Louisa. She seems to be well on the mend. Does she not, Doctor?"

"From the little I have seen of the today, I would say that she shall make a full recovery with little or no lasting problems. You have no worries there, I assure you."

Frederick shook his head slightly. That was not what he wanted to hear. Louisa was as far away from his thoughts as she had ever been. All he cared for now, was Anne, and her well being.

"Anne?" he asked with feeling, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "How is she?"

The expression on the doctors face changed, from one of hope, to one of pessimism.

"Not very well I'm afraid. A fever has set in quicker than I would have liked, and I suspect that that is because she did not listen to me, nor do as I asked and gotten more rest."

At the confused look of Margaret Harville he added, "I spoke with Miss Anne the last time I was in to see Miss Musgrove. She is an extremely adept nurse, but she was doing far too much by herself. Did you know she was staying awake most of the night just to make sure that the young girl sleep through the night undisturbed? I told her quite clearly, that if she did not curtail her duties then I would be treating her for exhaustion sooner rather than later."

Margaret was shaking her head. She had not known that the polite young woman who had been sharing her house and taking up more than her fair share of the housework, as well as nursing duties, had been so diligent about her care and duties to the young girl she considered family.

"She never said," she vocalised finally.

"She never would," Frederick said, his voice low. "She would not wish to have become a burden to anyone." Had he not spoken to her several days before on the subject? Had she not told him that she was fine?

He sighed heavily and run a hand across his face. He cursed his folly. It had been he alone who had persuaded her to come to Lyme. It had been he who had stood in the shadows of Uppercross and begged with her to come and nurse Louisa. In a round about way, he blamed himself. That was two young life's he had endangered now, how many more where to follow?

Knowing as he did now, he had no doubt what she must have been thinking when he had applied to her to do this. And yet she had still come. She had wished Louisa to be well again, had had a hand in seeing it so. Had she done it to see him happy? The knowledge that his marriage might be immanent, that she would have to attend. To sit in the seats and watch them make their vows. These thing must have plagued her, but still she had said nothing. She had been Anne Elliot through and through, thinking of all others but herself.

Though he did not know it for certain, he thought she must still have some feelings for him. He could not bare it now, to learn that she no longer cared for him. A friend had once told him that women where fickle, but not his Anne. She had invested her heart in their romance, brief though it was, and he could not imagine her coming out of it unscathed.

"What," he began, but had to stop and clear his throat. His voice clogged with thoughts and feelings, "What are her chances?"

The surgeon sighed, "Had she been of full strength, then this whole ordeal might have merely manifested itself into a sever cold. As it is," and here he paused, his gaze drifting off slightly. "As I said earlier, the fever has set in fast. In most cases like these," he paused again and drew breath, "If she makes it through the night then there is reason to hope. If she can make it through the next 24 hours then we'll be more certain of her survival."

Harville and Benwick both entered the house to hear the end portion of the surgeons words and to see Frederick stumble slightly, though he never moved, and to rapidly pale before their eyes.

"Oh god," he mumbled to himself, raising a hand to his mouth and fighting the urge to scream and shout. This couldn't be happening. Not now, not when he had finally realised what his heart had been trying to tell him what his head had refused to allow him to see. No. he wouldn't allow it.

"What is to be done?"

"You need to try and sweat out the fever. I noticed that the room she is currently in, does not contain a fire. It would be advisable to move her to one that does, if you can manage it."

"We could swap her and Miss Louisa around," Margaret said, looking at her husband and then the surgeon. "If you do not think that the move would disadvantage Miss Musgrove in any way?"

The surgeon pondered for a moment. He was concerned about aggravating his first patients condition, while at the same time, worried about losing his newest one if something wasn't done for her.

"If it is done care and gently I see no reason for the switch not to be made. I do not want Miss Murgrove to be stressed though. If it can be kept from her, I would rather she wasn't informed about Miss Elliot at the present time."

Putting his hand in his pocket, he pulled out a small round watch an checked the time. "I have to be on my way now, but I will be back in the morning." He promised. Looking straight at Margaret he said, "If she changes during the night, either way, good or bad, send word. If I am not at my place then the lad will know where to find me."

Picking up his case, he muttered a short goodbye to them all. Benwick saw him to the door and with that, he was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

_This chapter and the next are not as long as some of the previous chapters have been, but they both ended at natural breaks in the story so instead of putting them together to make one long chapter, I've decided to keep them as they are._

_As always, I'd love to know what you think._

* * *

The door closed behind the surgeon and Benwick re-entered the room, finding its occupants in the same positions he had left them.

He could reasonably say that he knew all three of the people currently in the room with some degree of familiarity. His first meeting with Margaret had been aboard the Laconia when Frederick had conveyed her, and the two elder children, from Portsmouth to Plymouth that spring. Phoebe had also been part of the group but he did not think it the time to dwell on that.

Harville he had known before. As a great and true friend of Fredericks, the man had often been abroad the ship, even when he was not employed to sail on her. There would be get-togethers and meetings, to which he was sometimes invited. He had got along with Harville tremendously, even more so when he had started to court his younger sister. Again Benwick tried to steer his mind away from those particular thoughts. It was time to dwell on the living.

Frederick had been know to him before he had met him. The young Captain had been something of rookie legend while Benwick had been moving up through the ranks, and to be posted upon his ship was quite an experience for the fairly inexperienced young navel officer. Benwick had strived under Fredericks command, and earned the Captains respect, and finally, friendship.

Books where not the only thing he was good at reading, he could read all of their emotions with a quick glance.

Margaret was worried, but at the same time relieved. She had two sick and injured people staying beneath her roof, and although she cared deeply about both of them and wished to see them both well, neither of them where her children and for that she was relieved. She was even more grateful now, for Mrs Musgroves offer to take them for a while. She would be able to concentrate now, on seeing both woman to full health without the constant fear that her own children might contract something.

Harville looked troubled. More troubled than Benwick had seen him in a long time. He noticed that Harville's gaze kept darting to Frederick and Benwick thought he knew why.

Although he wasn't doing anything apart from standing there and occasionally muttering to himself, it was clear to see that Frederick was agitated. The way he held himself, the way his gaze zeroed in on something before drifting off haphazardly onto something else, and the way that he finally allowed his legs to give way and deposit him into a seat.

"Frederick?" Harville asked, concerned, but his friend waved him off. He was fine. Or so he said. Obliviously still concerned about his friends state, Harville turned his gaze to his wife and spoke to her.

"If we are to move Miss Louisa, what are we to tell her? It will seem strange to her to be moved without a reason," he said.

"You'll move her to my room?" Benwick asked, speaking up.

"If you do not mind James. A clean swap between her and Miss Anne seems to simplest."

"You mistake my meaning. I would have gladly given up my room two weeks ago, had it been required. I merely meant to suggest that my room has the best sea views. Perhaps you might tell her that the surgeon has recommended more sea air, to aid in her recovery."

They all stared at him, before Harville leaned over and gave him a pat on the back. "That's brilliant, and it solves our problems." He looked at Frederick, the poor man seemed to lost in a world of his own, unsure of how to go on, but unable to go back.

"Frederick," Harville began. At the same time, Frederick spoke. "I'll get Anne."

Margaret, standing by her husband, opened her mouth at this, as if to say something, but her husbands hand on her arm stilled her, and she said nothing.

"Are you sure that's wise, Frederick?" Harville asked, his mind very much on the conversation they had had not an hour ago.

"It doesn't matter," he said, "Not now. Either way I am going to see to her well-being first and foremost." He looked at Harville and held his gaze. Harville saw a lost man.

Harville sighed and nodded, watching as Frederick existed the room and headed up the stairs, before turning to his wife.

They shared a look married couples, and those in love, would understand. One that questioned and answered at the same time. Reassuring and trusting, Margaret Harville knew there was something deeper going on than appeared to the naked eye. She knew that her husband knew about it, and that by the end of the night, so would she.

Once Frederick was gone, Harville launched into action.

"Margaret, I think it best is you go with Frederick. Get Martha to build up the fire in your room once Louisa has left. Benwick, "he said, turning to the other man and addressing him, "You and I shall escort Louisa. Though," he said, pondering, "Perhaps Martha should help her…look suitable first?" The questioning end of his speech was directed at his wife.

"She does have clothes on Harry," she scoffed. "But I see your point. I shall have Martha get her out of bed into a dressing gown and to the chair. Shall that be enough for your manly eyes?" she enquired, eyebrows raised.

Harville frowned at his wife's words for a moment before she walked away to accomplish her tasks. For his part, Benwick was confused, but wisely decided to say nothing and remain so at the present time.

While they stood downstairs discussing the present situation, Frederick was on his way up the stairs to Benwick's room where Anne had been placed.

He paused outside the door, unsure of what to expect when he opened it.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he reached over and turned the door handle, letting the door swing open of its own accord.

"Oh Anne."


	10. Chapter 10

_I want to stay one chapter ahead of what I'm posting, so the next chapter may take a little longer to post._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

On opening the door and crossing the threshold he had thought he was prepared to see Anne in the state that she was currently in, but he learnt in that moment, that he was not.

The rosy glow that had dominated her cheeks a few days previous when they had walked along the shore line, had been replaced by a harsh red glare. A stark contrast to the rest of her face that was a deathly shade of white.

Sweat littered her forehead and he found himself drawn to her, wiping at her brow with a nearby cloth. Her skin radiated such a heat that it warmed his hands, but when he reached down to pick up her hand, he almost dropped it again; they where frozen.

He pulled both hands from where they rested on top of the sheets and gathered them within his own, hoping that he would be able to warm them a little with his own body heat.

A sudden heaviness settled upon him then, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up on the bed beside her, gather her in his arms and wish it all away. There was no propriety in that though, so he settled on laying his head down on the bed next to hers. Closing his eyes he listened to her rasping breathing and the rattle of her chest, her bodies response to the fluid that was slowly coating and filling her lungs.

Frederick had no idea how long he sat in silent meditation and prayer, though it seemed like to time at all before Margaret Harville was tapping him on the shoulder and rousing him from his thoughts.

"We are going to move her to my room," she said quietly as she surveyed the woman on the bed, a hand hovering millimetres away from Anne's skin. The heat was pliable even at that distance and not for the first time that evening, Margaret feared for the for the health of the woman she had come to regard as a friend.

"What do you require me to do?" Frederick asked, his voice weary.

"Can you carry her? She needs to be taken into Harry's room first of all, then once Miss Louisa has passed, into mine." Frederick nodded and stood, folding her arms carefully over her body. "Take the sheet as well. She needs to be kept warm."

Carefully, and ever so gently, Frederick worked his hands beneath Anne's body. Mindful to push the cover with him, round her body, so that she was swaddled in the same manner as a babe.

Anne had always seemed small and delicate in stature to Frederick, but it alarmed him at how easily he was able to lift her. He had noticed that she had lost a little weight recently but still, it should have given him some hassle and strain.

Through the layers of blankets and bedclothes he could feel how thin she had gotten and he silently cursed himself for being too preoccupied with other things to notice her wasting away before his eyes.

When she was safely settled in his arms Margaret stepped up beside him and made sure that the blanket covered her completely. She laid a hand on Frederick's shoulder . The man looked utterly stricken and Margaret wondered how she could have missed his utter devotion to the woman he held in his arms, when it sung out so loud and clear.

"Come on," she said. Leading him from one room into the other before turning and letting him pass her. Sticking her head back out of the door, she called to her husband.

Frederick noticed their passing in the hallway but didn't acknowledge it. The main body of his attention was elsewhere. He had taken a seat on the edge of the bed, more as something to do rather than from tiredness. He would have paced the room otherwise.

As the two of them sat in silence, they could hear muffled voices and sounds of movement through the door and that seemed to signify that things where progressing. He only wished the could go even faster.

Fredericks sharp intake of breath drew Margaret away from her position at the door, cutting through the silence that blanketed the room.

"What is it?" she asked, going to him and kneeling down by his side.

Anne had turned her head, her skin coming in contact to his as her forehead come to rest upon the exposed section of skin at his throat. "She's burning up."

Frowning, Margaret raised her own hand to check and silently lamented the fact the in the brief time since the surgeon had called she seemed to be getting worse.

"The fever is taking hold," she said gravely. "The sooner we can get her settled in the other room, the better. We can make a start on sweating it out then."

Frederick removed his hand from around Anne's legs, allowing them to fall upon his own, and used his free hand to tenderly brush the hair back from her face.

"You care for her," Margaret remarked. The words coming out not so much as a question, but rather a statement. He nodded. "I would have never guessed," she said lightly, her mind full of moments where he had seemed less than friendly with the young woman whom he now held so protectively in his arms.

Frederick, to his credit, looked ashamed at that moment. "We have not been on the best speaking terms at late," he said, shaking his head almost angrily. "Too much pride and resentment on my side. Too much hurt."

Margaret watched him as he spoke. He was talking to her but all his attention was on Anne.

She opened her mouth to speak when a knock sounded at the door. Frederick barely responded to the noise but placed his arm back where it had been under Anne's legs and planted his feet more firmly in anticipation of standing.

Margaret opened the door to reveal her husband. "She is in Benwick's room. He has stayed to keep her occupied."

She nodded in response. ""I'll go and help Martha change the sheets. Give us a few minutes." And with that she left the room.

Silence again enveloped the room, punctuated only by the heavy, rasping breathing of the woman clasped gently, but securely, to Fredericks body.

"I cant lose her Harry," Frederick choked out suddenly. "Not like this. Not when she still hates me."

"She doesn't hate you," Harville said quietly and Frederick answered with a noise of protest from the back of his throat.

"She doesn't," Harville persisted, coming further into the room. "I think she is hurt, and more than a little confused by the way you have been acting. Especially recently. But she doesn't hate you." He paused and swallowed, content that he had his friends attention. "I do not think she ever could, though it must be breaking her heart to see you cavorting round with another woman right in front of her eyes."

"I have messed things up, haven't I?" Frederick asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

"Then let us hope my friend, that you have the chance to make them right."


	11. Chapter 11

_The next chapter is taking longer than anticipated, so I thought I'd give you this early. It also doesnt help that I have a new story swirling about in my head._

_I never say this is any of my work but - just in case any of you where wondering - I am not Jane Austen. Neither do I own the rights to Persuasion (damn). I wouldn't mind owning Frederick, so that I could make him do what I want, but then I realised I do that anyway._

* * *

A soft knock sounded at the door and it opened. "We're ready for you now."

Margaret swung the door further open, allowing both Frederick and her husband to pass before following them along the short corridor to the room at the end. The one she usually called her own.

Harville stood by the door as Frederick passed through. He laid Anne's prone figure on the bed, taking care to set her down just right as to avoid hurting her.

Taking a step back from the bed, Frederick allowed Margaret and the nurse Martha to move in and straighten out the bed. Laboriously wrapping Anne up in the sheets and blankets to help her sweat the fever out and prevent her from going in the opposite direction and getting a chill.

"Frederick," Harville called from his place at the door. He motioned with his head. "Come on."

Looking torn, Frederick shifted his gaze from his friend to Anne and then back again. His chest heaving as though he was suffering from some physical pain.

"She'll be here when you get back," Margaret said, taking his arm and giving him a gentle push towards the door. He allowed himself to be steered towards the door but came to a halt at the rooms threshold and would not go beyond it.

"You'll let us know," he asked, his eyes pleading with her, "if there is any change?"

She nodded, "Of course."

He took one last look into the room and then left. Allowing Harville to lead him from the room, down the narrow staircase and into the living area where the fire was going.

Frederick threw himself into a chair and dropped his head into his hands. Harville quietly went round the room, fetching some cups and a pitcher of wine. "Drink," he said, handing a full cup to his friend and wishing he had something stronger to give him.

"What have I done Harry?" he asked, completely ignoring the cup and his friend.

"Frederick," Harville began, shoving the cup into his friends hand before taking the seat across from him.

"I knew she was not taking care of herself properly. I knew and did nothing to set it right, did nothing to ease the duties that she performed. Damn it!" he slammed his cup down on the table with such force that the remaining liquid spilt over the top.

"We all saw her Frederick, Margaret and myself more than you since she was living under our roof, and we did nothing also. You can not blame yourself solely for this."

"How can I not?" he asked, "I was the one who brought her back, it was I who insisted that she stayed in the first place. She only came back because I asked her, Harry."

"If Charles had asked she would have done the same," Harville said, "Had Mrs Musgrove asked she would have been here. I think that, if given the chance, she would have been here without any of us asking her too."

Frederick say back in the chair now, his head resting on the back of the chair as he stared at the ceiling.

"What am I doing to do?" he asked.

Harville was silent for a moment before he let out a sigh. Frederick was not going to like what he had to say. "I think you should go."

"What?" came the low, sharp response as Frederick jerked forward in his chair, his eyes wide. "You can not be serious Harry. Leave? Right now, when her life is on the line?"

"I am," Harville said firmly, "We discussed it before. You had decided to leave and I still think that is what you should do."

Frederick shook his head. He got up and began to pace the room.

"Think about it Frederick. If you are still around then Louisa will still be expecting you to offer to her. Even if you stayed here and saw Miss Anne well, would you being willing to give her up again when Miss Musgrove's family forces a union between the two of you?"

Frederick continued to pace. "I don't want to go."

"Sometimes we must do the right thing, even if it is not what we want."

He sank back into the chair. "Perhaps you are right," he said, nursing his cup again before holding it out to Harville to be filled again.

"You know I am right," Harville said to him, "Emotion is clouding your judgement at the moment."

"Emotion has been clouding my judgement since I returned into her society" Frederick said truthfully. He drained his cup. "I'll go in the morning."

Harville nodded, he had not been expecting his friend to leave any sooner and was personally surprised he had given in so easily, Harville had been expecting more of a fight. By the morning they might have a better idea on how Miss Elliot was doing and Frederick might be able to part from this place feeling lighter and less weighed down by worry. He doubted it though. Frederick was going to worry and fret no matter how the situation played out.

"Should we inform her family?" he asked as Frederick lost himself in the dancing flames.

"I think you'll find more family concern and worry from the Musgroves than you will her own family," Frederick said, "But I suppose they must be notified. Charles should probably do it."

Frederick could not see Anne's father and elder sister caring much about the situation and he suspected that had she fallen ill under their roof then her health and well being would have been left to the servants to take care of. 'They'd probably take better care of her anyway," he thought bitterly.

He closed his eyes, rested his head in his hand and leaned heavily into it.

Had he behaved any better towards her since he had been in her company again? Any better than her family usually treated her? If he really thought about it, he had been an absolute bastard towards her since they had been reintroduced.

She had reacted how she usually did, with grace and dignity, though perhaps quieter than she had been previously. He on the other hand, had done everything in his power to make her uncomfortable and wary of him, and what he might do or say.

Damn it. He really had screwed this all up.

"Frederick?"

His head jerked up as Margaret Haville appeared at the foot the stairs.

"She's ready, if you want to see her." she said, before turning and starting back up the stairs. She stopped a few steps in as he stood, "Can you bring up some firewood? We need to bank the fire."

Doing as he was told, Frederick quickly gathered up several blocks of wood before sprinting upstairs, taking them two at a time. He arrived at the door a second behind Margaret, slightly out of breath, the pieces of wood in his arms. She took two pieces from him before opening the door.

Going inside, she stopped by the fireplace first, placing the two blocks of wood on top of the already flaming fire. He followed her in, paying no attention to anything else but the prone figure on the bed. Margaret took the remaining pieces of wood from him and stacked them on the side of the hearth, ready to be of use.

Martha, the nursemaid, backed away slowly from the bedside as he approached. There was a bowl of water on the bedside table, a small wash cloth laying over the side, and he picked it up. Squeezing the excess water from it, he leant close and dabbed at her forehead, wiping away the moisture that gathered there.

"She'll need to be watched all night." Margaret said, looking towards her nursemaid; beginning to formulate a plan for one of them to be with Anne all night.

"I'll stay with her," Frederick said, speaking up.

He sat in the chair by the bed, his gaze fixed on the body encased in layer after layer of blankets. Her chest heaved with each breath she struggled to take whilst her hair was in disarray, matted to her forehead with sweat. She occasionally moaned and groaned, shifting her head from side to side.

He looked up at Margaret when she didn't stay anything and found her staring intently at him. He met her eyes for a second and she saw the torment and anguish contained within them. His face showed his worry and although she had been considering telling him that it would be a bad idea for him to remain alone with her through the night, the look he gave her changed her mind. There was more going on here than she knew about.

"I have to leave in the morning," he said, shifting his gaze momentarily away from Anne. "Please. Let me sit with her till then, till I see she is going to be alright."

Despite the disapproving glance her nursemaid was giving her, Margaret nodded her head. "I'll fetch you a blanket."

Frederick shook his head. "I wont sleep."

"Frederick," she began.

"No," he said, shaking his head again, not taking his eyes off the woman in the bed. "I'll call for you. If I need you." He shut everyone out then, not knowing when they left the room or if they said anything to him before they did.

He had one person to focus his attention on, and he was going to make sure he got that right, at least.


	12. Chapter 12

_Yes its shorter than it could have been, but I can only stay in moody Frederick mode for a short time cause its so utterly depressing, and while it might have been interesting, I just cant go on for pages about how hopeless he is feeling, and how his heart aches and how, oh how he wishes for a second chance…sometimes less is more._

* * *

The night passed.

To Frederick, it went neither slowly nor fast as he kept up his vigil at her side. He sat straight in the chair by the bed only occasionally moving when he deemed that her forehead needed mopping or that her lips needed to be moistened.

He was almost afraid to blink.

Scared that if he took his eyes off her, then something might happen and he would lose her. And he did not think he would be able to cope with that. To say that he had been reckless back in the year six, when fighting against the hurt and confusion of broken engagement from her, would be nothing compared to how he might be if he lost her for good.

It sent shivers down his spine just thinking about it.

He knew that they had not been on the best of terms lately, something that was entirely his own fault, he had been a complete bastard towards her on his return and was paying for it now.

Honourably engaged to one woman while his heart belonged to another.

It was all a mess.

A mess he himself had created. Had he of had more energy and been willing to be out of her sight, then he might have gone to find an outlet for his anger. As it was, he remained in his seat and allowed it to stew and fester, becoming more and more depressed and desperate as the hours passed and she still did not show any signs of getting better.

She tossed and turned often. He caught the barest sounds of names from her lips, but was unsure of whom she called for. He held onto her hand often, trying to warm the flesh with the hope that she might wake under his touch.

It was a foolish belief but it kept him going.

It was more than once that he had to wipe at his face, the tears coming of their own accord. He opened his mouth to speak many times throughout the night but could not find the words to say to her, even in the state that she was in, he did not want to belittle her with half assed words of comfort and regret.

Words of love that he could not fully honour.

Margaret Harville was in at six, stoking the fire and laying on a bowl of fresh water and a light breakfast for him. He did not feel like eating but one look from the woman of the house sent him reaching for a slice of toast and stuffing it quickly in his mouth. His mouth was dry and it took a whole cup of tea to wash the toasted bread down.

She had a knowing look in her eye and Frederick was left in no doubt that she now knew the whole story of Anne and himself. He lowered his eyes to the ground when she caught them, ashamed at the way he had been acting before and what she must think of him after everything that had happened.

She patted his arm in comfort as she passed and left the room.

It was another hour before Harville came and ushered him out of the room, sighting that the woman had to change the sheets and other such duties. He allowed himself to be led out of the room, but would go no further than the hallway. He eyed the door to Benwicks room warily.

"She will sleep soundly for another hour or so," said Harville when he noticed his friends gaze. "Longer if we do not disturb her."

Frederick nodded before leaning into the stone wall and resting against it. He was utterly exhausted, both physically and mentally.

"I take it you did not get any sleep last night?" Harville said, his words more a statement than a question. Frederick's appearance spoke more than words could. His eyes where red, the area round them dark. His hair was sticking up as though he had run his hand through it continuously throughout the night, and his face needed a shave.

"I was not going to take the chance that by falling asleep, that something might happen to her. That I might not be able to do anything had she faced some difficulty, that she might have," his breathing and words sped up as he went on, as he became more and more agitated.

"You need not say anymore Frederick. I would have done the same in your position." Harville interceded when he stopped to take a breath, placing a hand on Frederick's shoulder and giving him a small shake, willing him to calm down.

"You would not have been as stupid to involve yourself in a situation like this," Frederick replied.

"We are all fools in love."

They lapsed into silence then. There was movement beyond the door but the rest of the house was silent. With the children being gone it was as though some of the life had been sucked out of the house, leaving it barely functioning. The quiet was also a help as it allowed Frederick to arrange his thoughts and set his mind.

"I am not leaving till the surgeon has been," he said to Harville as they continued to stand in the small hallway.

"The sooner you are on your way, the better," his friend said to him. "Charles is due soon to check on his sister. Do you really want to be here to tell him you are leaving?"

Frederick paced around the small area, his fists tightly bunched. "I will not go till I have heard she is better. Even if that means climbing down the pipes to avoid seeing Charles."

Harville sighed, he knew he would not be able to convince his friend on this matter. "Very well."

The door to the room opened moments later and he was allowed back in.

"How do you think she does?" he asked Margaret as the woman finished up in the room. He was hoping for a favourable answer but she did not look altered to him, and was the same colour, same constitution as she had been when he first laid eyes upon her the evening before.

"She is still here," Margaret said, "And that must be taken as a good sign."

He took Anne's hand again and felt his spirits rise a little that it no longer felt as cold, that her hand seemed to have warmed a little.

He still had a hold of her hand when he surgeon appeared some half and hour later. The other man said nothing about it, nor did he ask him to leave so Frederick stayed where he was as the surgeon began to examine her.

It was clear to Frederick that the surgeon was not as concerned about her health as he had been the previous night, though the elder man frowned when he felt at her head and her wrist.

"Is she doing better" he asked.

"She has made it through the night, and for that we must be thankful," he surgeon said, mirroring Margaret Harville's words from earlier. "I am still concerned that her fever is still high and that she has not woken yet. Do you know if she woke during the night."

"No, she did not."

"Hmm. It might be the case that because she was not at full strength when she was struck down, that it might take her longer to recover."

"But she will wake,"

"If she does not relapse, then she will almost certainly wake. Hers was a fever born from being cold, not one that has infected her through the blood. It should not affect her brain, nor her heart and she should recover fully."

He looked to the door, "Make sure she is kept warm, especially her hands and feet. When she wakes, try get her to eat or drink something. Call me back then, night or day and I will come a check on her. Once she has woken you will need to start building her strength up again."

"We can do that sir, thank you," Margaret Harville said to him. He gathered his bag then and left the house, making them promise to send for him when she woke.

"Frederick," came Harville's voice from the door once the surgeon had gone.

"I know Harry, I know." He looked up at his friend. "Will you give me a moment?"

Harville nodded, placing a arm around his wife and steering her away from the doorway. "We'll be down stairs."

They left him alone then.

He did not know what to say, what to do so he settled watching her for a few moments more. Memorising the contours of her face again, though they where long engrained in his mind. He sat on the edge of the bed and took both her hands in his, rubbing at them and encouraging them to warm. He leant forward a place a single kiss upon her brow.

He felt his heart skip a beat when her eye lids fluttered, and he thought for a moment that she might wake. She did nothing more than turn her head though and he felt himself slightly disappointed; a silly childish belief had come into his head that true loves kiss might wake her like it did in the fairytales.

It took a long time for him to finally let go of her hands. Tucking them beneath the blankets, he walked backwards out of the room, determined to keep her in his line of vision for as long as possible. The hardest bit he found, was stepping away from the doorway and having her out of sight. He did it quickly, but it still hurt. He felt, very clearly, the tug at his heart as he made his way down the stairs.

He did not stay long in the house after, but bade his farewells (after renewed promises) and left a purse full of money on the table for her care. He was back at the inn in no time and settling his bill, and having his horse brought round.

As he reached the outskirts of the town, he turned the horse around and looked back over the town and the sea that lay beyond it. Looking aback round he spotted the signpost and took a long time to study it, rolling over an idea in his head.

He suddenly made a decision and kicked his horse into action, though instead of heading off in a northerly direction towards the county of Shropshire, he headed south; to Plymouth.


	13. Chapter 13

_Why has Frederick gone off to Plymouth?_

_I'll let you know when I figure it out. Seriously though, Jane Austen had him go to Plymouth before heading to Edwards, and I thought I'd do the same. As to a reason…I'm sure one will come to light. Eventually._

_If anyone's interested, an audio version of Persuasion is available (for FREE) on itunes Podcasts. Look for the ClassicFM version. They have Northanger Abbey and Mansfield as well, but they wont download for me. I did find mine on another website however (MP3 versions), and if anyone would like the address, just pm me. They are quite good recordings._

* * *

She woke when the sunlight made its way through the curtains, trailed over the bed and tickled her eyes. Evening turning over made no difference, the window being positioned directly in front of the bed. She was beginning to miss the thick, heavy curtains that she had around her bed at home that had both annoyed her and had scared her as a young child.

Pulling herself up, she caught the sight of a small tray of food lying on the tiny table beside her bed. Her stomach let out a large growl, and she was glad that she was alone. As she tucked into the meagre but filling breakfast, for she was still on doctors orders not to outdo anything, which included over indulging herself in food she would really like.

As she ate, she though what the day might bring, and if Frederick would make an appearance. She knew that she had been a guest of the Harville's for two weeks now and that he had been nearby, even in the house every day but had yet to see and speak with her. She admired his sensibilities, but really, it was beginning to annoy her.

Captain Benwick had given her a brief description of what had occurred after she had fallen, and Frederick had seemed concerned, even frantic, about her wellbeing. She was extremely grateful too that he had managed to convince Anne to return and care for her. Had Mary been left in charge of her, she didn't think she would have been able to stand it. Her sister in law annoyed and got on her nervous at the best of times, but since she had woken up, her voice had been the equivalent to a hand scraping down a blackboard.

She had to admit though, that she did enjoy the peaceful time she spent in the Harville's home, often with Captain Benwick. He had the perfect voice for reading and since it gave her a terrible headache to read for any amount of time, he was the perfect solution to her boredom. She found herself to have a new liking to poetry and was learning so much from him. There was even times when they talked of other things, and she felt at ease asking him questions about his life and of life aboard a navy vessel.

After his first few stories, she released she had been terribly naive about how her life was going to be as a Captain's wife and what would be expected of her. But perhaps Frederick would not go back to the sea? War was over now, and she was sure he had said that he was not guaranteed another post. Perhaps they would take a house on the coast and merely be near the sea. She would love that, and was sure Frederick would be fine with it too.

Sitting back against the pillows, she waited, expecting someone to be along shortly. It was early, but Captain Benwick had been excited yesterday with the prospect of reading her a new set of poems he hoped would be delivered and had promised to be round extra early. Margaret had even suggested that she might be able to take a short walk since she was steadily recovering her health and now had the energy to do. If the weather stayed as it was, perhaps Captain Benwick would walk with her and read her something with reference to the sea, maybe even teach her some nautical terms.

Or maybe even Frederick would come. They could walk, and that would confirm to him that she was well and that he would fall to his knee at the end of the breaker wall and propose marriage to her. She smiled, settling further back into the pillows and let her daydreams take over.

////////////////////

James Benwick hurried along the harbour wall towards the Harville's home, carrying more than one book under his arm. He had spent the night at the local inn and as the morning came, had charmed the mistress of the small, but efficient library into letting him borrow a few books earlier than she might have usually opened. Several where for him to read to Miss Louisa, she was becoming quite a poetry expert, but he had also picked up a few of the books Miss Anne had remarked on as being her favourites.

He was eager to be at his friends home. Eager to hear news about both young woman who where currently residing there due to illness and injury respectively. He entered the house quietly, shutting the door carefully behind him. The Harville's sat together at the small table in the kitchen area, the remains of their breakfast spread out on the table before them.

"James," Harville motioned to the man with his head, inviting him over.

"Is everything alright? How is Miss Anne?" he asked, taking a seat at the table and accepting the cup of tea that was passed to him. As much as he tried not to think about it, he kept wondering if this is what it was like when Phoebe was ill. The tension, the not knowing. The worry. He had had a night of broken sleep, woken often by the visions and nightmares of his love, burning before him with no way for him to save her. He shivered despite the warmth from the stove situated behind him.

"She is a little better," Margaret told him, "But we have something else to talk to you about."

"Frederick has left." Harville said bluntly, speaking suddenly.

"Frederick's gone!" Benwick was surprised at this. It wasn't like Frederick to go running out on his responsibilities. "Has he returned to his sisters?" Thinking that perhaps Frederick could had travelled to Uppercross to speak with Louisa's father though, to his knowledge, Frederick had yet to speak to Louisa and propose marriage to her. He had not seen her since she had been injured, refusing each time, to enter her room even once she woke.

"No, to his brothers."

"In Shropshire?" Benwick exclaimed. It was a long way to go at any time, but especially in winter.

"He thought it best," Harville told him, mulling over his tea.

"For whom?"

"It seems that Frederick has not been truly honest with any of us," Margaret said as she topped up their cups with fresh tea.

"And very foolish," Harville said, after thanking his wife. She nodded, placing the kettle back on the still warm stove. Benwick sat hoping that an explanation was coming shortly. Margaret, seeing his expression, sighed.

"He has been fooling his heart," she said, "Trying to forget about a past love, and show her that she meant nothing to him anymore by showing undue attention to another. Foolish man," she muttered, shaking her head.

"You mean he has been leading Miss Louisa on?" Benwick asked, lowering his voice though there was no one else there who could hear him, the lady in question being as far away as you could get in the house. Frederick! Frederick who was seen as the epitome of good behaviour and manners, whose character was remarked as being what a good naval officers should be. He couldn't quite believe it.

"Not intentionally," Harville said, "In his defence he did not even realise what he was doing, so caught up in imagining what Anne was thinking of him and about how he was not effected by her anymore. Stupid man."

"Anne?" Benwick queried, "Miss Elliot?!?"

Harville nodded, "They where acquainted many years ago."

Margaret let out a small laugh, "I believe they where a little more than acquainted, Harry."

Benwick looked from one to the other, but neither seemed willing to divulge anymore than they had already said. He thought he could work it out though, and spent several minutes going over it all in his head.

"They where engaged for a short time," Harville said, catching Benwick's look. "She broke it off and he has been hurting over it ever since."

"But, Miss Louisa, she truly believes they are to marry."

Harville nodded, "And they will, if that is what she wishes. Frederick is an honourable man James, he will do what is expected of him. He is of the hope however," he said, "That the separation will lessen her feelings."

"If she is truly in love with him, he could be the other side of the world and she would still pine after him,"

Benwick said to them, thinking back to his own experiences about being away from his love. Phoebe had been on his mind through every sailing and moment spent apart.

"Since Miss Elliot is incapacitated at the moment, we will need your help James, to keep Louisa occupied. We can not have her stressed." Margaret said.

"And if you could keep from mentioning Frederick as well," Harville added before turning to his wife. "I do not know if we should let her know he is no longer here, or not." he admitted.

"She will find out soon enough.," Margaret answered, "Charles will have to be told." She said. Louisa's brother would visit them shortly and his day was due to be thrown into disarray by the news that his sister in law was currently in the gasp of illness, and that his sisters supposed suitor had fled the area. Margaret was of some hope that Anne's current situation would deflect some of the confusion and questions over Frederick's travel.

"Perhaps if we say it was urgent, that his brother requested his presence, they wont be so panicked about it?" Benwick offered, slowly buying into the situation and his position in it. "Charles will not believe that Frederick departed without saying something to him, unless it was urgent."

"What about Anne?" Harville asked.

"Exhaustion," Margaret said, "The surgeon himself said it, so why not say she has taken to bed for some rest?"

It was agreed upon. Both Margaret and James headed upstairs afterwards. Margaret to check on her newest patient, and James, armed with his piles of books, to see Louisa. He was determined to do his bit. He was not however, looking forward to telling her that Frederick was no longer in Lyme.

Harville remained where he was and sighed, running a hand over his face. For all that it might be beneficial in the long run, he was beginning to fully appreciated the problems that Frederick's departure had created and would continue to cause over the coming days. He was thankful once again that his children, barring the youngest, where currently housed at Uppercross and that they could go about their business without having to worry about them every minute. He felt the same way about Frederick. Though he was older than his friend, Harville had never really felt so till now. Usually it was Frederick who was acting as the older, more sensible brother. Oh how the tables had turned.


	14. Chapter 14

_Sorry about the delay with this. I did have what I thought was this chapter practically done, but I then realised that it didn't address some of the issues that have emerged in the story. I think its safe to say that this story is going to go on for a while._

_I am also away from home on the start of a seven week holiday travelling across North America (currently in San Francisco) so sometimes I'll have time to write/type and others I wont. I'll try my best though, to give you fairly regular updates_.

* * *

Charles Musgrove arrived at the Harville's house early, as he had been want to do each morning since his sister had fallen. During the first week of her encampment he had rushed there as soon as it was reasonable, but as the days had passed and her condition improved he found himself taking longer and longer to reach his intended destination each morning.

The days following his sisters fall had cast a dark shadow over the Harville household, turning the generally cheery atmosphere into one of anxiety and worry. As the days passed however, so did the cloud, and Charles was surprised when, setting foot into the house that very morning, that it had returned. His first thought was for his sister

"Louisa?" he asked Captain Harville sharply, for the man sat by the doorway, obviously by design.

"She is fine," Harville assured him. He gestured for Charles to sit with him. "When the surgeon saw her just last night, he said she was the best he had ever seen her."

Charles nodded for a moment before starting, "Then what? Why was the surgeon here?"

"He was here on another matter," Harville explained, "Miss Anne has taken ill."

"Anne!" Charles exclaimed, the worry for one sister easily transferring to the other. "What's wrong?"

Harville sighed, he was not looking forward to delivering bad news. "She was caught in the downpour yesterday and has developed a fever. It has consumed her rapidly because she was not in the best of health to start with, what with taking on too much when it came to the care of Miss Louisa and caring for her more than her own health."

"Good G-d!" Had Charles not already been sitting, he might have rapidly needed a seat. He knew that Anne had been taking good care of his sister and that she might have been doing more than was asked of her, as was usually the case with Anne, but he had not realised she had been that constant in his sisters care that she had neglected her own health.

"She has been quite bad," Harville continued. "But the surgeon said that should she have made it to the morning, which she has, then she stood a good chance of making a full recovery."

Charles dropped his head into his hands. He had just stopped constantly worrying about his younger sister, and now to have the added worry of Anne being ill. He groaned. Mary was not going to take this well.

"We have not informed Louisa of Anne's condition, the surgeon insisted that she not be stressed if we could help it." Harville was talking again. "We have moved her rooms though, so that we could put Anne in the room with the fire. Benwicks has a stove however, that we can put to use should Louisa require it."

Harville thought that Charles looked a little lost as he sat and contemplated the situation, and Harville wondered if he had heard a word he had said since he had announced Anne's illness.

"I must inform her family," Charles said eventually after sitting for a while in silence. "Though I doubt they shall be as concerned about it as they ought."

"Frederick suggested a letter to a Lady Russell might be better received."

"Yes," Charles said, his expression brightening a tad. "She would be the better of the two." He stood. "I shall go and dispatch a note immediately." And with that, and a quick good day to the Captain, he was gone. Back out the door and along the harbour wall to the inn as quick as his feet could carry him.

Harville remained where he was, contemplating the fact that he had escaped, for now as the very least, telling Charles about Frederick's departure from Lyme, and the county.

Upstairs Margaret sat with an increasingly agitated Anne. The fever gripped her surely and although she was not as hot as she had been, for she had been burning earlier, she showed o signs of breaking from its hold. She struggled, that was given, for Margaret had had to rearrange the sheets about her body more than once. It was also a given that she called for someone, and while a name could not be discerned, Margaret was certain she knew what name the young woman was calling and wondered if Anne knew it had been him who had sat with her all through the night.

And if she somehow knew he was now gone.

Charles returned to the Harville's no more than an hour after he had left it. "Mary has taken to her bed," he said after he had greeted the Captain and his wife, "So I can only make a short visit, but I thought Louisa might be a bit suspicious if I did not come and see her."

"We have employed Benwick to keep her distracted. She seems to enjoy his company."

"That is true," Charles said, "She never used to enjoy poems and sonnets, though I suppose we must be glad that that is the only change in her."

Harville allowed Charles to go up stairs and visit with his sister, though he did not stay long. When Margaret came down the stairs, he questioned her on Anne's condition.

"She is still with us," was what she said. "Charles is sitting with her."

The Harville's allowed him some time with his sister in law before Margaret went back to her vigil, Harville followed her up. While his wife went into the sick room, her former bedroom, Harville stood in the doorway and he was glad to see that someone within her family seemed to care for her personal wellbeing, even though it was a little late to do so.

"Charles," Harville called to him from the door, and Charles lifted himself from the chair with a final pat of her hand as he left. Harville closed the door to the room gently behind him and the two men walked down the stairs one behind the other. "I have another matter to speak with you about."

Charles nodded and came to a stop in the small living area. He took out his pocket watch and had a look at the time displayed, "Will it take long Harville? I hate to leave this early, but Mary was very agitated when I told her about Anne and hastened me to return as quickly as possible."

"It wont take long," Harville said, "Frederick has asked me to inform you that he has had to leave."

"Wentworth's gone?"

"Some urgent business with his brother in Shropshire he said." Harville took comfort in the fact that he was not telling outright lie, for Frederick really had some business with his brother just not as urgent as he was making it out to be. "He had to leave first thing this morning and was disappointed that he was unable to say his goodbyes personally."

Charles sighed. "Then I wish him all the best, and hope that he returns soon," Charles turned to face Harville, "Do you shoot Captain? I was going to say that I shall be bereft of a shooting partner now that Wentworth has left, but perhaps I shan't be."

Harville felt his eyebrows raise and eyes widen, "It has been a long time, but I shoot."

"Excellent!" Charles exclaimed, "Then I hope you shall indulge me with your company soon."

It was agreed to and Charles left.

Harville was a little stunned. He had been expecting more of a reaction from Charles, to Frederick's departure, but the man did not seem too concerned about the fact that his sisters supposed future husband had left the county and had given no date for his return, nor had he seemed too concerned for his sister in law beyond initial worry and anxiety but was far more interested in a having a possible shooting partner whilst Frederick was not around.


	15. Chapter 15

_I am really sorry about keeping you guys waiting for this. I did take my laptop with me on holiday but just didn't have the time to really sit down and work on this. I'm back now though, and excepting work, I should have plenty of time to write. I've set myself a target of being finished by the time I have to be back at Uni (September)._

_Another chapter coming very soon. Very soon. Promise._

* * *

In the days after Frederick left Lyme where a rather quiet ones. Especially within the Harville house. With two of their number currently confined to their sickbeds, something the younger of the two was beginning to protest about, the movement around the house was minimal. The Harvilles found that Louisa's protests where often quietened very quickly by an ever eager navel Captain who took great delight in reading and reciting to her daily. Something that she seemed to find enjoyable and took great delight in, and something in which he often found employ.

Anne had woken briefly on the second night of her sickness and had taken a good amount of very watery broth before falling back asleep, and Margaret though that perhaps she was now in a true sleep and not a fever induced unconsciousness. Something that the surgeon concurred with when he arrived to see her the next morning.

She woke with a start when he started to examine her, trying to sit upright and push him away. It was the surgeon's kind words and Margaret's soft tones that entreated her to lay back down and rest. She fell asleep again quickly.

Motioning her our of the room, the surgeon spoke to Margaret. "She has improved," he said quietly for the door was still open for his other patient still knew nothing of the events that had occurred over the last few days. "I did not think she would get so better, so quickly, but she has done so and we must be grateful."

It was as the surgeon was walking out the door, after he had examined Louisa as well, that Harville brought up the subject of payment. The surgeon waved him off. "It is already settled," he said as he gathered his belongings. "Miss Louisa's care has been paid for by her brother and as for Miss Elliot, a note along side a bag of coins was left for me the other night, instructing me to put it towards her care."

Harville frowned and shook his head. He too had recently found a very similar bag of coins tucked away amongst his woodwork tools with an extremely similar note from Frederick. Harville cursed himself silently as he showed the surgeon out. He hated receiving charity of any form, especially from his friends and the amount that had been left was substantial. Nearly equal to the pay he would have been receiving, had he still been able to perform an active service in the Navy.

There was nothing to be done however, and though Margaret Harville detested charity as much as her husband did, she could be nothing more than grateful for it. The combined strain of having (at the beginning) extra mouths to feed and water had been slowly draining their resources. She did however, mean to having a stern talk with Frederick when he returned.

It was the thought of Frederick that reminded him of his promise to his friend, and he set off after a short while to send an express. The note was short and brief, stating only that Miss Elliot had improved and seemed to be on the road to recovery. It was something he was sure his friend would take great delight in, though perhaps not as much as he should, given the current uncertain circumstances surrounding his future.

********************

She was sitting up in the bed when he came in to sit with her, a small pile of pillows and blankets stuffed behind her back to help keep her upright, and while her hands still shook due to the weakness she was suffering from in wake of her fever, she was looking a lot better than she had been. Perhaps they might even be able to help her get back to the way she had looked at the beginning of her trip to Lyme, when the sea and late winter sun had brought out the colour in her face, giving her a natural glow.

"Captain Harville," she greeted, smoothing the covers round her. Her voice was still a little rough and she drank readily and often from the pitcher of cold water that rested on the bedside table both night and day, the one Margaret had taken to filling every few hours.

"How are you this morning?"

"I am very well, thank you Captain, and I think the reason behind that is the diligent care your wife has bestowed upon me." She smiled at him then and he saw the extent of her thanks, "I would like to thank you for your hospitality as this time Captain." She continued. "It can not have been easy for either of you to have your home invaded by near strangers and yet you have borne it so well. And poor Captain Benwick," she exclaimed. "To have been put out of his own room. I have tried to talk Margaret round to it, I am really well enough now to take a room at the inn - or even travel back to Uppercross, but she shall not hear me." She scrutinised him then, "You would tell me, would you not sir, if I was inconveniencing in any way?"

"You are welcome here, Miss Anne, for as long as you wont and for as long as Margaret deems it necessary for you to be here. She is very firm on that matter. And do not feel sorry for James, he is coping admirably with the loss of his room." He smiled, "I do believe he is spending more time in there at the moment, reading to Miss Louisa, than he did before this whole incident."

She nodded. "It is good that his spirits seem to be lifting, and though it will take him sometime, I am sure he shall recover them entirely."

"You have been very good for him."

"I understand his loss," she said quietly, "Perhaps in a way that others do not." She coloured then and spoke no more, looking down at the bed covers or towards the fire rather than at him. He gave her a few moments to compose herself before moving on.

"May I ask you a personal question?" He asked suddenly. He had not meant to voice what had been swirling around in his head, but he had opened his mouth to remark on the current weather and instead that had popped out.

"I am currently lodging under your roof, your wife has nursed me back to health. You may ask me what you wish. I will do my best to oblige."

He studied her closely then, tempted a little, to back out from asking what he really wanted to. He did not want to be seen as meddling, Frederick would never forgive him for that, but he really did wish to know her feelings on the matter and particularly those that pertained to Frederick. He would hate his friend to have gone to all this trouble to try and distance himself from Louisa Musgrove, only to find that his feelings for Anne where not returned.

"You may regret that," he said, giving her a chance to back out of giving him free reign to ask what he pleased.

She cocked her head to the side a little, "You have to ask me now, Captain Harville. You have piqued my curiosity."

He took a deep breath.

"You where in Frederick's company before I believe," he started, "Some eight years ago?"

Her gaze left him them and while he saw no obvious signs that the conversation had started to distress her, Margaret would hang him from the rafters if he did, her hands gave away her nervousness. "I was. His brother Edward, was granted the curacy of a local parish for sometime. I knew them both."

"But particularly Frederick," he pushed.

She looked directly at him then and he saw something in her eyes that he had caught glimpses of throughout her stay with them and the time before, when she had been nursing Miss Musgrove. He saw it in its full light now and was finally able to put a name to it.

"I gather, Captain, that you are…informed of my prior…acquaintance with Captain Wentworth." Her words, though spoken quietly, where a statement of fact.

"Frederick does not loosen his tongue very often Miss Anne, not even to good friends," he told her.

"Whenever he did - often once he had a barrel full of drink in him - back in the days when we served together on the Laconia, I learnt more about him in a couple of hours then I had done over the months we had spent at sea. Not that he lost himself to drink very often," he hastened to add, "but there where several times throughout the year, almost like clockwork, when he would drink far more than his share and spend the night rambling on about this, that and the next thing. Suffice to say ma'am, I heard your name repeatedly brought up."

"Would I be safe in saying Captain, that perhaps it was not in such glowing terms?"

"There where times when the information tenured was not altogether…favourable, but they where few and far outweighed by the times he would sprout some god awful poetry his drunken mind had concocted in your honour. At least, I hope they where made up on the spot and not something he had subjected you with during your time together?"

"I can honestly say I have never had the pleasure, Captain." Anne said to him, a sad smile visible for the briefest moment.

"I do not know whether to pity you then, or be thankful, for some of them really where dreadful." Harville said with a laugh and she let out a small huff of a laugh before dropping her gaze back to her hands.

They where silent then. He was unsure of how to go on. His intention at the start of the conversation was to gage her feelings. He now understood Frederick's and thought it only wise that he learn hers, hoping that it might save some heartache in the future, but he was unsure of how to proceed. He did not feel that he knew her well enough to ask outright without embarrassing her for it was not something one just blurted out, nor could he think of anyway to subtly bring it up in conversation.

"Miss Louisa is doing well," he said eventually.

He thought she seemed to brighten at this, she really did care for the younger woman who had been in her care. "I am glad. Has the surgeon said when she will be allowed to journey home?"

"Not for another week or so. Miss Louisa seems quite content, even though Frederick has left."

"He's gone?" she asked, sitting up a little straighter.

"He left the other day to visit his brother in Shropshire."

"I would have thought," Anne began, shaking her head in confusion. "He seemed so concerned about Louisa's recovery, I would have thought he would have stayed, especially since she is doing a lot better and would be able to receive visits from him now."

Harville sighed, "He has his reasons, and his brother has been expecting him for several weeks now."

"I take it you have known Captain Wentworth a long time, Captain Harville."

"We served together during the trouble in St Domingo, before he became Captain and was given the Asp a year or so later. He asked for me personally after learning that I was in port and about to be paid off. I consider him one of my greatest friends."

"He thinks highly of you, Captain. That is clear enough."

"The same could be said of you," he replied. She turned away from him, shaking her head gently.

"Can I tell you something about my friend?" he asked, leaning forward in his chair. She nodded, still trying to come to terms with the information he had imparted on her about Frederick's departure. "He has his pride, Miss Elliot, and though he see's it as a fault in the character of others, he does not see it in his own. Even when it is inflated and he is flouncing it about in the faces of others."

They lapsed into silence again.

Anne opened her mouth as though she about to speak, when a knock sounded loudly on the door downstairs and after several moments a voice could be heard, "Where is Anne?"


	16. Chapter 16

_I hope you enjoyed the previous chapter._

_I finally think I know where I am going with this, and while an ending is still a bit away, I would say that we are coming into the final portion of the story and, hopefully, that happy ending that we're all searching for._

_This chapter is shorter than the previous one (they where originally attached, but it just didn't seem to flow) and a little less exciting, but I wanted to give you all an idea of what Frederick was up to. Personally, I don't think he's the type of man to sit around and wait for everything to turn out right. Hence this chapter._

* * *

Frederick was going out of his mind.

He had arrived at his brothers late the previous evening, too late for any explanation or meaningful discussion, and had been up at the crack of dawn after a night of interrupted and broken sleep. He had yet to converse with his elder brother and his new wife beyond the bare essentials and he knew, from the look on his brothers face, that he would have to explain his sudden arrival in full. Probably some time today.

Frederick was not looking forward to it.

Deciding on giving his horse a rest, for the poor beast had done well to get him there in a day from Plymouth, he went for a walk. He lost all track of time as he walked around the small village and its surroundings, his mind and thoughts still miles away, back in Lyme. He had been hoping, and equally dreading, that an express waited for him but it had not been so. That he felt both relieved and panicked at the same time confused him.

When the sun was high in the sky, as high as it was going to get in the winter, he retraced his steps and returned to his brothers. He found them about to sit down to lunch.

"We where just about to send out a search party," Edward remarked after Frederick had returned from cleaning himself up and sat at the table with them and a quick 'grace' was said.

"My apologises Edward, Catherine. I lost track of the time."

His brother accepted his excuse with only the slight rise of an eyebrow but thankfully for Frederick, the conversation drifted to more neutral topics such as the local village news and word of Catherine's family - who lived the next parish over - rather then an explanation on why Frederick had turned up unannounced like he did and what reason was behind it.

Edward thought he could take a very good guess.

Since her return to solid ground, and even before, Sophia had been the most faithful correspondent and he had been guaranteed to receive one from her about every two weeks and they always contained the most interesting of news. Sophia did not know, he suspected she did not know but his sister had a way of knowing, that her letters brought Edward more interesting news than she thought she was informing him of.

Like the news that they would be renting a house near by to where he used to be curate for, some previous years ago, one that just happened to be owned by a certain Sir Walter Elliot. Even more interesting was the news that a young lady of the party wished to offer her congratulations on his recent marriage - a Miss Anne Elliot! Upon reading those words, Edwards thoughts immediately turned to his younger brother. More so after he read that Frederick was soon to be joining Sophia and the Admiral at Kellynch.

Edward wondered whether Frederick was consciously aware of what he was doing by visiting and placing himself in the company of the woman he had once cared so deeply about. Though he claimed otherwise, Edward was certain that his brother still had some sort of feelings for Anne and that they where good ones, rather than spiteful or hate filled.

It was after lunch, and after Catherine had found some business she had to attend to in another part of the modesty sized cottage, that Frederick found himself alone with his brother in Edward's study recounting the whole experience and the decisions that he had made regarding both Anne and Louisa.

"That is one positive thing," Edward said after Frederick had stopped talking, "That you have realised where your heart lies before you made any permanent decisions regarding your future, and who are where to spend it with."

"Perhaps it is too late though, maybe its already been decided by my actions and inaction. Damn it!" He stood quickly and began to pace back and forth in the small space.

"That rug is brand new you know," was all that Edward said to him after observing Frederick for a few minutes. Frederick looked up at him, certain that his brother had spoken but being so caught up in his own thoughts that he missed what was said.

"Frederick. What will be, will be and no amount of pacing back and forth in my study will change anything."

"I know," Frederick replied with a huff as he plonked himself down on a nearby chair. "But,"

"No buts," Edward said, shaking his head. "There is nothing more you can do now, its out of your hands."

Frederick closed his eyes and out a heavy sigh. Though he hated to admit it, his brother was right. The time for him to have made a difference, to have steered a change, was gone and he had to leave it up to the fates to decide.

The express that arrived the very next morning containing the news that Anne was on the slow road to recovery, brought him a little comfort, but the undecided nature of the situation he found himself in, that he had placed himself in, still gnawed at him constantly.

Walking, riding, even helping out around the village did little to help him settle. Sleep never came easy and when he did manage to slip into slumber, he was plagued with visions and premonitions which sent him into cold sweats and fits of panic.

After a week at Edwards, and despite the welcome that he had received and continued to enjoy, Frederick was champing at the bit to be on his way again.

He surveyed his choices.

Staying at Edwards was instantly knocked off the short list, he just could not find any peace at his brothers and it was too far away from everything. Should anything happen he was at least a days ride away.

Kellynch and Sophia where quickly discounted from the choices due to their close proximity to Uppercross. He could not, in good nature, be a guest of his sisters and not pay a call to the Musgroves. Not after all the trouble and heartache he had caused them.

That left very little options. It would be possible for him to go to Plymouth. He had several acquaintance there to make a stay pleasant and plausible. He might even have the chance to enquire about another ship, a jaunt out to sea - even if it where only a short voyage - might be able to soothe him. He shook his head almost instantly, going further away would not help.

Another place came to mind and although he quickly tried to push the thought from his mind, Lyme was another possible choice. No one would have to know that he was there. He could take a room in one of the small, less popular places under an assumed name and keep himself to himself.

It could work he reasoned with himself. Perhaps if he let Harville know he was there, no one else need know, then he'd be able to learn what was happening sooner and be on hand should anything major occur.

He argued back and forth with himself all afternoon and well into the evening on the merits and foolishness of returning to Lyme in secret. He was almost certain that he was going to leave Edwards the very next morning, it was his destination that remained unknown.

He couldn't say that Edward was entirely happy with his choice with the announcement that after only being with them a week, he was leaving already and it took him longer than expected to convince Catherine that his abrupt departure had nothing to do with her good self, her hospitality or her cooking.

When Edward asked him where he was going and Frederick could only reply with a shrug and "Maybe Plymouth," he did not believe he was lying to his elder brother. His mind was not entirely made up but it swung in one direction more often than not, and he did nothing to correct it.


	17. Chapter 17

_"Make Frederick suffer a little more"…I think I could do that…mwahahahaha. The introduction of one of the characters in this chapter might help towards that._

_I promise you all that I'm working on this constantly, and my other stories, its just that I am very easily distracted by other ideas for both Persuasion and other subjects. I'm getting better at the "not posting till its almost complete" part though, which is why you haven't yet encountered my new secret AU Persuasion fic…oh the mystery!_

* * *

An awkward silence filled the room he entered.

Captain Harville had excused himself to Anne, to go downstairs and see who it was at the door. He met Benwick at the top of the stairs and they both made the decent together, one after the other. Entering the living area at the foot of the stairs they both observed a stately looking woman perched upon the edge of one of the wooden chairs, her gaze darting about the room. Directly behind her stood a man of medium height, his hat and cane clasped in one hand whilst the other dug out a picket watch and observed the time as though he was counting the minutes till he could be gone.

Margaret turned to him as he entered, her gaze telling him nearly everything he needed to know.

"My husband," she said to them as the elder woman stood, "Captain Harville, and our friend Captain Benwick. Gentlemen, this is Lady Russell and Mr Elliot."

As Harville bowed to them both he was racking his brain. Lady Russell he knew of, but Mr Elliot he did not. As far as he understood it, from both Mary Musgrove and from what Frederick had told him, there was only the three Elliot sisters and their father, and this man was definitely not Sir Elliot.

"Captain Harville," Lady Russell said, taking a step towards him. "How is Anne?"

"Lady Russell," Harville said again, inclining his head, "She is much improved since a letter was dispatched to you. She woke yesterday morning and is conversing when not resting."

"Has she been seen by a surgeon?"

"Just yesterday, and he is due to return to check on her progress tomorrow."

Lady Russell nodded. "May I see her?"

"Of course," Margaret said, casting a quick glance at her husband before leading Lady Russell up the narrow staircase and along the small hallway to Anne's temporary room.

It left Harville and Benwick in the company of the, so far, silent Mr Elliot. The three men stood in silence for a moment, neither of them knowing what to say.

"So, you are a relation of Miss Elliots?" Harville started. Walking across the room he placed himself on his usual seat and observed the man that was currently under his roof, and who looked like he would rather be elsewhere.

"I am a cousin, and her fathers heir," Mr Elliot replied abruptly before brushing at the lapels of his jacket as though they had gathered dust. Harville nodded, slowly turning his head to look at Benwick. The young man looked back with wide eyes.

"Well," Benwick said, clearing his throat. "I should return to Louisa." And with that, he made his way back up the stairs and to the woman he had taken to caring for daily. Harville often wondered whether his voice was going to give way one of these days since he spent so much of his time reading to her.

"Is she the girl who had the fall?" Mr Elliot asked after Benwick had left, his curiosity piqued. Harville nodded the affirmative. "Terrible business," the gentleman said, "Such a terrible…accident. I am sure everyone was affected greatly by it."

"It has been a very trying time for everyone involved."

"In deed." He was now idly picking at the skin beneath his nails, and Harville decided right then and there that he did not like the man and wondered why he was here. He could not recall either Anne, Mrs Musgrove nor Charles mentioning him. "But it must be worse for her beau."

"Her beau?"

"Yes," Mr Elliot said, looking up and straight at the naval captain. "A Captain Wentworth. I understand, from my intimate setting within the Elliot family, that they are to announce their engagement any day now and are merely waiting till she has recovered sufficiently."

Harville's eyes darkened but he kept his mouth shut. It wasn't that he didn't want to set the simpering, pompous man straight, but thought it wise not to say anything and give Mr Elliot more information than he needed to know.

"It certainly is odd," began Captain Harville, in a disinterested tone "That you have heard that when nothing of the sort has been mentioned here. But that is the way news travels I suppose. It gets distorted."

Mr Elliot did not look happy, but Harville really did not care. Though he barely knew him, Harville did not like him and was starting to wonder why he was here. Was he merely accompanying Lady Russell on her travels? Or had he come for his own purpose? Whichever is was, Harville would not be comfortable again till he was gone. He had a very bad feeling about this and vaguely considered writing to Frederick to ask him to return but quickly dismissed the idea.

It would do no good to add Frederick to the already increasing numbers descending on Lyme. His presence, if added to the fray, would cause more problems than it would solve.

*************************

To say Anne was surprised when the door opened to reveal her friend and god mother, rather than Captain Harville, whom she's been expecting, was an understatement.

"Lady Russell," she rasped, before clearing her throat and taking another drink from the glass of water set on the table to her side. Though not fully recovered yet, she was glad that she was slowly improving and felt less ill as the hours past.

While Anne was busy Lady Russell took a look around the room. Whilst she understood that the Harville's were not the most wealthy of families, she still did not think that the environment that her god child was currently being cared for in, was the best to promote her back to full health and felt the need to remove her from it as soon as possible.

The news that Captain Wentworth was said to be in the vicinity, had no bearing on her desire to move her friend from Lyme to Bath. None whatsoever. At least, that's what she told herself.

"How are you my dear?" Lady Russell asked. She moved the chair that Captain Harville had been sitting in, closer to the bed and after wiping it with her handkerchief, took a seat before reaching out and taking Anne's hand within her own.

"Better. Though it will take several days till I am back to my normal self."

"How on earth did you become so ill? When Charles wrote he was very worried about you and the condition you where in but did not tell us how you fell so ill."

"It was a silly thing to do," Anne said, not exactly meeting her eyes. "I went out for a walk when I was advised not to and I got caught in a downpour."

"Advised not to?"

"I am currently lodging with people who have spent most of their life on, or by the sea. When Margaret told me it was going to rain I should have listened to her."

"Margaret?" Lady Russell asked, a surprised look on her face. She had no idea that Anne had become so friendly with these people.

"Mrs Harville," Anne clarified.

"I don't know why you are here in the first place. First the…incident involving the young Miss Musgrove and now this. Clearly this trip was not appropriately managed, nor you young ladies taken care off. You should have returned to Kellynch with Henrietta, Anne. Then none of this would have happened."

"Both of them were just accidents Lady Russell, there was no intent nor inattention in either of them." Anne spoke up believing, and rightfully so, that her friend was attempting to lay the entire blame firmly at Frederick's feet when he could not be fully blamed for either.

Lady Russell patted her arm. "I need to go and sort out the arrangements, but I will be back later and then we will be on our way."

"Our way?" Anne echoed as the older woman stood and made for way to the door. "To where?"

Lady Russell stared at her. "To Bath of course."

"Bath?"

"Well, you can not expect to remain here. Bath really would be the best place for you."

Anne found herself shaking her head. "I do not believe it would be a good idea for me to make a trip of that distance, nor move from where I am."

"I will arrange for us to make several stops along the way, and the carriage is very comfortable

Anne shook her head again, "No."

"You will not even consider it?"

"I am perfectly content here, and I could not ask for a more competent nurse. Margaret has been so kind, and so has Captain Harville. It can not be easy for them to have the care of two almost complete strangers ill under their roof."

"All the better that you come back to Bath with me, there you will not be under the feet of anyone."

Anne let out a huff. It didn't matter what she said, Lady Russell was adamant that she was not going to remain in Lyme, but journey to Bath with her.

"Mr Elliot travelled all the way here with me just to escort you home," she continued, seemingly unaware of Anne's mood.

"Mr Elliot?" Anne asked.

Lady Russell's whole expression seemed to lift as she thought about the man she had left waiting downstairs. She had great plans for him and her friend here, if she could only get them to spend some time in one another's company and to have that happen, she needed to get Anne away from this place.

"He was greatly concerned to learn that you where ill and insisted on accompanying me to visit you." She leaned down conspiratorially close to Anne and said, quietly, "I believe he caught a glimpse of you on his last stay here a few weeks ago and wishes to know you better."

"But, father and Mr Elliot, they haven't been on speaking terms in years."

"Oh, it is all settled now and he is a great addition to the company at Camden place. Very knowledgeable and with great manners. He is just the sort of person that should be acquainted with your family."

Anne did not quite understand the sudden turn of events. It had been years since her father and his heir had been in cordial contact with one another and for Mr Elliot to suddenly be back in the family and in such good terms with them, seemed odd to her.

Lady Russell frowned at her, "Are you would not like to come to Bath?"

Anne hung her head a little, disappointed to be letting her friend down but firmly believing that moving now would only harm her and hinder her progression to full health. She was also determined to see Louisa fit and healthy, for that is what she travelled back to Lyme to accomplish. "I am sure."

Lady Russell drew herself up to her full height. "I suppose I could stay a few days," she said, "Though I am not sure on Mr Elliot's plans and I am certain he shall be disappointed not to have met you. I do not think a bedside meeting would be appropriate, do you? Perhaps I can persuade him to stay a day or two, providing he does not have any urgent business to attend to." And with that the Lady was gone from the room. No doubt to go and find Mr Elliot and to check with him on his plans for the coming days.

Anne shook her head lightly once her friend was gone, not quite believing what she had just heard.

Lady Russell was going to remain in Lyme and was hoping to persuade Mr Elliot to join her! Anne had to admit that her curiosity was piqued and as soon as she felt up to it, she was going to request a meeting with this Mr Elliot, so that she might form her own opinions of the man that had already grabbed her interest.


	18. Chapter 18

_Thank you all for staying with me with this one, especially since I've been going sooo slow with it. As previously mentioned my muse can be a bit "flighty" and has been exploring new area's within the realms of fan fiction to sink its teeth into, which has been very distracting to say the least._

_I have a new story out which I'd encourage you to check out. I'm quite excited about it._

* * *

Frederick was cold, miserable and very, very wet.

His return trip to Lyme had not gone exactly to plan. Five miles out from Edwards house he encountered his first problem when his horse threw a shoe and he had to proceed to the next village on foot to get it fixed.

When he arrived at that village however, the blacksmith had been out at the local manor estate for the day and he had had to settle down for the night in the local inn.

His horses shoe being fixed early the following morning he had set off again only to get half way to his destination for the heavens to open and the rain to come streaming down from above. Deciding that it wasn't likely to stop any time soon, and that it would be safer, he stopped off for the second night in a row, in a small village inn.

So small in fact that the only accommodation they could offer him was a pallet made up in the stables as all the other rooms where occupied and currently in use.

So in addition to being cold and wet, he smelt like the cattle holed up next to him.

The rain had yet to cease by the morning but Frederick decided that he might as well carry on instead of waiting it out. His leather travelling cape did little to protect him from the elements and because of the weather he had to take his time and let his horse pick her own way across the sodden ground for fear of causing another accident.

The way into Lyme that he had used on the way out had been hidden by a mudslide that had cascaded down the hillside in a stream of mud, rocks and debris, and he had to reverse his course to take an alternative route into the small seaside town.

Frederick began to wonder whether the fates where against him.

He had decided against going back to the same inn he had been lodging in before as he was certain that Charles and his wife would still be in residence there and he did not wish to run into them when he was supposed to be out of the county.

A bath was the first thing he ordered once he was settled.

Sinking into the luxuriously hot water, Frederick allowed the muck and grime of the previous two days to wash off his body and for the heat to warm his chilled body. He allowed himself the privilege of merely relaxing in the bath tub for a long time, thinking over his reasons for returning and what course of action he should be taking now.

First thing he must do, he thought, is to send out a missive to Harry and arrange for a meeting. He needed to know what was going on and if he couldn't be there in person then he was going to have to have a pair of eyes and ears in the Harville house, and who better then the head of the house?

*************************

Captain Harry Harville was currently making himself an enemy of Lady Russell.

The Lady herself was adamant that Anne should be moved from the Harville residence to one of the hotels in the surrounding area but, on the word of Anne herself, Harville was reluctant to let her go. Anne did not wish it and he was worried that any change in her environment might be hazardous to her health and he said so.

"It is Miss Anne's request and we have no qualms at keeping her here for as long as it is needed."

"She is suffering from a fever, she does not know what she is saying."

"I believe she is sufficiently recovered ma'am, to know what she is saying." Harville replied. He had stood up to more dangerous foes, many with superior fire power but he doubted that any had been as stubborn. He cast a hopeless glance at his wife who stood guard at the bottom of the stairs, ready to intercede should any attempt be made to remove their guest by force.

Things where settled not long after with the arrival of Charles Musgrove. He saw no reason to remove Anne from where she was and commended the Harville's on their generosity and * for both of their patients. He was only sorry that they could not offer them more in return.

"It is no bother Charles," Harville said. "Any friends of Frederick are friend of ours."

It was at the mention of Frederick's name that Lady Russell sat a little straighter, something both Margaret and Mr Elliot both noticed.

"Is Captain Wentworth still in Lyme?" she asked.

Charles shook his head in the negative. "He had some urgent business with his brother in Shropshire, but I am sure he shall be back as soon as he can."

"Indeed," was the Lady's only reply.

"I shall greatly miss his company, and I know I shall not be the only one," Charles said conspiratorially, throwing his glance to the ceiling and grinning. "Did you get the chance to meet him whilst he was at Kellynch, Lady Russell?"

"I did not have that…pleasure."

"Same. Such a remarkable man and a great shoot." Charles said, unaware of the slight tension that had filtered into the room. "Do you shoot Mr Elliot?" he asked, turning to the other man in the room.

"I do not," Mr Elliot replied.

"Same," Charles repeated. "We could have had quite a shooting party if you had."

"Quite," the man said in response.

Lady Russell rose then and gestured to Mr Elliot from where he stood near the door. "We will not keep you any longer," she said, speaking to Captain Harville and his wife. "Will you contact me when the surgeon makes his visit in the morning? I would like to speak with him in regards to Anne's condition."

Captain Harville nodded is accent and watched as Margaret saw their guests out with Charles deciding to accompany them back to the inn and make Mary aware of their arrival before coming back to the Harville's after eating dinner.

As soon as the door was closed behind them Harville let out a deep breath and shared a looked with his wife, but before he could open his mouth to say anything to her there was a knock at the door and a note was ceremoniously delivered by a young lad.

Taking a penny from his pocket he gave it to the boy before opening the note and perusing its contents. He had recognised the writing almost immediately but was not expecting the information it contained, nor the directions for return.

He looked up at the young boy waiting expectantly. "Tell him I'll be there," Harville said to the lad who immediately sprinted off in the direction of the town.

"Harry?" Margaret asked him as he shut the door. Harville could only shake his head. He really should have been expecting this.


	19. Chapter 19

_*Peeks out from behind the computer screen*…Is it safe to come out?_

_Sorry about the huge delay in posting, but my muse has been flighty for awhile now and only seems to strike when I cant do anything about it - i.e, while I'm at work. I do a lot of standing about at work and most of the following was written on the schedule sheets we get given. I have dozens of them littered with my work._

_What I'm going to try and do, is get this story finished in the next couple of weeks (otherwise its never going to end and it'll just go on and on) and work on "So Far from You" in between but not post till this is finished._

_That's the plan anyway._

* * *

It was a warm, clean, and dry Captain Wentworth that sat in the smoky corner of the dimly lit bar waiting for Captain Harville. It had felt good to finally make it back to Lyme and then to have got out of his wet clothes and into a steaming hot bath.

He had never much cared for the luxuries of life. Give him a clean, well equipped ship and a full, loyal complement of men and he was happy. He was quite content to allow his hair to grow out, for stubble to appear on his face and to wash daily in cold water.

Sitting in the smoky corner of the less than reputable bar gave Frederick a chance to observe those around him. He noted the bone weary labourers, the weather beaten fishermen in for a wee tipple and the drunkards that drank their earnings away.

As the door opened and closed admitting a short, sharp blast of air, Frederick spared the new comer a brief glance to determine that he was not Harville and went back to his drink. It was a few minutes later, when the man passed by on his way to the back of the room - to the stairs and the working girls - that Frederick was caught, by all things, the style and make of the mans shoes.

That he was wearing shoes in itself was unusual. The men that usually frequented the bars and inns in this area of Lyme where generally working class men and dressed as such.

Upon further inspection, and to his utter astonishment, Frederick realised that he cognised him as the same man he had seen that day with Anne at the Cob - Mr Elliot.

Frederick watched as the Elliot heir made his way up the stairs, stopping at the second on the small landing of the first floor and knocking. The door opened to reveal a scantily clad woman those eyes lit up at the sight of the well to do man; a decent customer for a change.

Having believed the man to be in Bath, Frederick was stunned. Mr Elliot had obviously travelled back to Lyme, but when? Surely in the last couple of days for he had not been here when Frederick had left. And why was he here, certainly to see Anne. Had he seen her already?

With these thoughts and questions tumbling about his head, Frederick stood suddenly gathering his coat about him in preparation to leave, his mind in turmoil. He knew he should never have left. He could have distanced himself from Louisa very easily but still have been here for Anne as she recovered. Damn Harville.

"Frederick?" Harville's ears must have been burning for he stood now before Frederick, a hand on his shoulder.

"Elliot's here," Frederick hissed at him, leaving some coins on the table and hustling Harville from the inn and into the shadowy streets.

"Elliot?" Harville parroted. "You mean Mr Elliot?"

Frederick nodded. "The very same."

Harville turned to look back at the fine establishment they had just left. "In there? Are you sure Frederick?"

"Positive. He was seeking some company for the night."

Harville nodded in understanding. "As a man of his type is loath to do I suppose."

They walked in silence for some time, Harville taking his lead from Frederick, and made their way across the small town to the inn where Frederick was currently staying. It offered them a comfortable, dry, warm room for them to talk without the fear of being discovered. The parlour was deserted, they where the only two there and it allowed them to talk freely.

The inn keeper, after being applied to, set down a pitcher, cups and small assortment of savoury snacks with cheese on the table and left them alone. Harville waited till he was out of ear shot before letting loose on his friend.

"What are you doing here Frederick? I thought we had agreed that you would stay away for a while, at least until things calmed down between yourself and Miss Musgrove."

Frederick shook his head ruefully. "I could not stay away," he said as he lifted the pitcher and poured them both a cup full. "I need to be here, to know what is going on. It was torture waiting for news."

Harville accepted his cup. "Torture or not, it was the best place for you to be."

"I need to be here," Frederick said firmly. The pair stared at one another for a while till Harville pulled his gaze away with a resigned sigh.

"I am not going to convince you to leave again, am I?"

Frederick grinned and shook his head. "No."

"Too stubborn for your own good," Harville muttered as he more himself some more mead. He sat back in the chair, "I had better catch you up on all the goings on then, since you wont get the letter I posted out to just this morning."

"Anne?" Frederick enquired, he would hear the rest later.

"Anne is doing fine and is regaining her strength day by day. I believe that by the time the week has passed she will be well enough to leave us, should she wish it. She has already been tempted away once, though she has declined that offer." Harville looked up to see Frederick frowning in confusion, an unspoken question plastered over his face, and decided to answer it. "Lady Russell."

Frederick was glad he had yet to take a drink from his cup. "Lady Russell?"

Harville nodded. "I had the pleasure of her company this morning. She came to take Anne away but Anne would not go. She brought with her Mr Elliot and both have decided to stay on in Lyme for the time being."

Frederick did not say a word. He was still trying to grasp the notion that Ann had gone against the wishes of her most trusted friend and advisor. "Anne said no to Lady Russell?"

"Quite vehemently. You seem surprised," Harville remarked.

"I am," said Frederick. "Very."

"She is not the same woman you once knew Frederick. She is enjoying her time with us, even if she is not in the best of health at the moment, and is loath to give that up."

"What of Louisa?"

"Improving," Harville replied. "Benwick sit with her most days, reading to her and she seems to enjoy his company, and it has done wonders for his wellbeing. He has been more cheery of late."

"Good. He deserves a little happiness."

Harville nodded. He had hated seeing Benwick so down and depressed, even though he had a good reason

for it. "What are you going to do now?" he asked. "Lady Russell is obviously here on a mission to return Anne to Bath and as for Mr Elliot, I believe he might be here for the same reason though with perhaps a different outcome."

Frederick turned his gaze to the window, the rain had started again once more and was battering against the window. "Whatever I can."


	20. Chapter 20

Anne relished the cool sea breeze on her face.

She could not fault her care at the Harville's but she decided right there and then that there was nothing better to help anyone towards better health, than a lungful of fresh sea air.

A hand rested on her arm and gave it a small squeeze. Anne turned to her cousin and smiled as they walked on along the sea front, their conversation intelligent and free flowing. She found him to be a charming gentleman and was enjoying their walk together though she was willing to admit, to herself only, that his story seemed a little too well rehearsed. He told it well but their was a small niggling doubt in her mind that he was not being entirely honest about his sudden, newfound interest in the family.

"I hope, dear cousin, that I am not boring you nor tiring you out. We shan't go much further I promise, just to this street corner and then we shall turn back."

"You are not certainly not, Mr Elliot and I am not tired either. But perhaps, if we did not turn back soon, I would be. It has been a lovely walk and I thank you for joining me on it."

"There is no thanks necessary, Miss Anne. I too, have enjoyed myself."

Anne smiled. "I have really enjoyed my time in Lyme, barring the circumstances that have kept me here longer than I had originally intended. It has been a good deal time though, and I feel better in myself that Louisa is not well and getting better by the day."

"I hear that is all your doing, cousin."

Anne shook her head at the flattery. "Oh no," she said. "I was not the only one talking care of her. It has been a joint effort and I am sure that had I not have been here, she would be progressing just as well."

"Kind and modest," Mr Elliot said with a grin.

Anne said nothing. She could not lie, even to herself. Despite her doubts, she enjoyed his company.

They strolled along at a leisurely pace, taking in the shop fronts, the small fishing boats pulling into the harbour with today's catch and talking about her family in Bath. What neither of them noticed was the tall, well built figure that had followed them.

* * *

"Anne, you really must reconsider."

Sitting up in bed, propped up by several pillows, Anne resisted the urge to huff. This was Lady Russell's third attempt, this visit alone, to try and get Anne to change her mind about not leaving Lyme.

She had returned from her walk out with Mr Elliot and found herself more tired than she had thought she might be so Margaret had hurried her off to bed and she had to receive Lady Russell from there. Margaret had been adamant Anne not move and after relaxing back into the soft covers and letting herself feel the benefits of her walk (including the sore muscles and the fatigue), Anne had to agree.

"I wont," she found herself replying and then, thinking that might be too harsh, added, "At least, not yet."

"But Anne," Lady Russell implored, leaning close. "You are up and walking, perfectly able to take a short carriage ride to Bath."

"That small walk has drained all the energy I had. I think a carriage ride all the way to Bath would set my health back."

"But Bath would set it right again. You could take the waters daily and enjoy a hot spring bath. We could also take several stops along the road." It was a matter that Lady Russell was not willing to back down from.

"The sea air and acre from the Harville's has been just as good for me."

Anne could tell that Lady Russell was getting annoyed with her but refused to back down as she honestly believed that any move would be detrimental to her recovery.

"This is all his doing, is it not?" Lady Russell scoffed.

"Who?"

"Captain Wentworth."

Ann frowned. "Captain Wentworth is no longer in Lyme and is not due back from his brothers for a couple of weeks, and even if he was in residence, his being here would have not affect on my decision whatsoever."

"You want me to believe that he has left his intended alone, in the hands of those she does not know, and has gone gallivanting about. I may not think well of the man, but I do not believe that."

"Believe it," Anne stated. " Captain Wentworth is nothing but an acquaintance of mine, and me to him. His being here would be no reason for me to stay."

Lady Russell looked unconvinced but thankfully changed the topic and began to speak of Mr Elliot, asking Anne her opinion.

"He is a gentleman," she said. "And a great conversationalist. I enjoyed his company this morning."

Lady Russell lean forward once again, her eyes shining. "He has been speaking of you."

"I have been speaking of him," said Anne, confused.

"No," Lady Russell said, patting her hand. "he has been speaking in an intimate manner of you. I believe he is quite taken by you."

"But I have only met him once, surely that can not be enough for him to form an attachment to me?"

Her smile wide, Lady Russell answered. "He said that you have a mutual friend and he has been hearing about your good qualities for years."

"A mutual friend?" Anne queried.

"He would not say who, but he knew all about you."

"I wonder who it could be?" Anne thought.

"Who ever it is," Lady Russell said, straightening the covers a little, "We should be grateful to them. He really is a charming man."

Lady Russell left soon after. Still singing the praises of Mr Elliot as she went. She was due to join him for dinner later on that evening and had promised to paint Anne in the best picture in his eyes.

Settled comfortably in bed in what she had come to refer to as her room, Anne thought back on the walk, her companion and the strange feeling she had had, almost the entire time, of being watched.

She would put it past Lady Russell to surreptitiously follow them but there had been no carriages on the roads and Anne doubted very much that Lady Russell would have trailed after them on foot. There was a the possibility however, that she had either sent a servant or hired someone locally.

The presence had been a comfort, and she did not think a hired help would transmit that sort of feeling.

Then again, perhaps she was imagining things.

* * *

Settled back in his room at the inn, flopping down on his bed, Frederick threw an arm over his eyes and let out a groan. He hadn't meant to follow her.

Unable to remain coped up after breakfast he had decided to take a walk before lunch in an attempt to release some of the extra energy he seemed to have.

He spotted them shortly after he had set out, near the entrance to the small harbour, and although his first thoughts where joy filled ones that she was up and about, he immediately began to distrust the intentions of the man on her arm.

Frederick had not meant to follow them, had not set out with a plan to stalk the woman who, he had come to realise only recently, held his heart in her palm, and the man who was tempting to take her from him.

Of course, there had been no formal declarations, no real hint that Mr Elliot was here, in Lyme, in any other guise than a concerned family member but Frederick had the feeling that this man, though a recent widow, had more than familiar interest in Anne.

His heart sang at the sight of her looking whole and in better health than she had the last time he had seen her and though it stung with jealousy at the sight of those arm she clutched, he did not doubt that the exercise and sea air would do her good . He only wished he was free to be the one by her side.

He had followed them, at a distance, along the promenade and back, and past a row of shops. He had kept his distance, mingling and blending well with the local crowd of fishermen and merchants going about their business.

He had only got close on a few occasions to check that she was well enough. Flashes of the last time he had seen her, when she had been gravely ill and he feared that it would be the last time he saw her, kept appearing in his minds eye and he had to reassure himself that she was there, and looking well.

He grew worried towards the end, when her steps had faltered just briefly and her cheeks, below the rosy glow garnered from the refreshing sea breeze and the gentle exertion, grew pale. He would have shown himself there and then had the pair not have started back to the Harville's.

It had been good to see her. Even if he had had to do it by hiding in doorways and from round street corners.

With that thought he let out a sigh. Frederick knew that should Louisa wish it, then he would be hers. He had acted rashly, that could not be questioned, but hoped and prayed that he would not be paying for it for the rest of his life.

He was at a lose as to what to do now.

He would remain in Lyme. That he was certain of.

He had tried to leave and failed, and now that he had seen Anne he was loath to go very far from her.

He knew he had to keep his distance from Louisa in the hope that the passage of time and distance would lessen her attraction to him. If she truly was in love with him, he knew first hand that it would be a pointless endeavour.

He would honour his idiocy if need be, but was willing to do anything he could to see that it did not happen.

Anne's loss he could take, with his heart breaking, if needs be for that would be his own stupid fault for acting uncaring towards her when they met once again. But to lose her because he, himself was not free to accept her if, in fact, she still felt the smallest bit of love for him. It did not bare thinking about.

He groaned, his head spinning.

He would stay in Lyme and play each day as it came, doing his level best to remain out of sight and out of mind. Especially to Louisa, while at the same time keep Anne in view as much as possible. She was already in his thoughts each and every day.


	21. Chapter 21

_I know, I know…forgive me?_

_Short but with more to come. I'm getting back on track with everything and intend on getting this story finished as soon as possible. I estimate…5 more chapters? Maybe._

* * *

It was one week since Frederick had arrived back in Lyme, when he was woken far earlier than usual by a furious banging on the wooden door to his room. It took him some time to emerge from his dream state, confusing the banging to canon fire for a long while.

Still wrapped in his dreams, as well as the sheets, he crossed to the door and undid the latch. Pulling the door open he came face to face with a very flustered looking Harville.

His friend, who was quite out of breath and red about the face, thrust a sealed letter at him before stumbling into the room and plonking himself down on the unmade, recently vacated, bed.

"Good morning to you too," Frederick mumbled, smothering a yawn. He closed the door and turned, leaning against the solid frame and stared at his friend.

"Well?" Harville enquired after a few moments. "Aren't you going to read it?"

Frederick looked down at the letter trapped between his body and hand. It was in Benwick's neat and precise scroll. "Why is Benwick writing to me?" he asked, confused.

"He would not say. I apprehended him this morning and he asked where he might send it, since he did not know your brothers address, and I said I would post it for him."

Frederick raised an eyebrow. "Apprehended?"

"He was looking downright shifty."

"Hmm."

"Hmm? That's all you have to say?"

"What more do you want me to say?" Frederick asked.

Harville huffed. "You could at least fake some interest. This letter might be the beginning of the rest of your life. If it where me I would be all over it by now."

"You always were impulsive."

"This coming from a man very rarely had a pre-plotted course laid out and sailed by the direction the wind was blowing that day."

Frederick smiled. "You have to admit it was often very fruitful."

Harville waved him off, "Yes, Yes. Now, will you open it?"

"I will, if you promise to go after and let me get back to sleep."

He secured a nodded promise from Harville before breaking the seal of the letter and unfurled the solitary piece of paper, reading the short, simple message that it contained.

"Well?" Harville prompted.

Frederick read it again. "It is not from Benwick," he said, looking up.

"But it is his writing, I am sure of it." Harville made a grab for the letter but Frederick held it away from him.

"He may have penned it, but this note is from Louisa."

"What does it say?"

Frederick sighed. "She requires my presence," he said, holding out the note for Harville to take before plopping down beside him on the bed.

"No wonder he was looking wary. If Margaret finds out he'll get a cuff around the ear." Harville stuck his nose in the letter and scrutinised it. Reading each word and sentence carefully.

"Requires your presence eh?" Harville remarked when he had finished. He held the letter out to Frederick, "Sounds ominous."

"It does."

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"What can I do but wait a few days then make my appearance? My future is in her hands." Thanks to my own foolish actions, Frederick thought to himself.

"Perhaps she wants to see you to release you?"

Frederick held back a snort. "And how likely is that, do you think?" he asked honestly.

Harville frowned. "Margaret says she still asks after you, but not nearly as frequently as before."

"But she still asks?"

His former first mate sighed. "I'm afraid I can not tell you much Frederick. Margaret and Benwick are with Louisa far more than I am. I prefer Miss Anne's company."

"As do we all."

They sat in silence for a time, each contemplating the situation.

Harville shifted. "I should be on my way."

Frederick stood and offered him his hand, pulling him up. "Thank you my friend."

Harville nodded. "I will say I have posted it off to you then I shall be delighted and enthusiastic when you make your reappearance in a few days time, as though I had not seen you for weeks."

Frederick nodded his head distractedly, pulling the sheets he was wrapped in, tighter about his body. He suddenly wanted to go back to bed and sleep right through to the spring. Perhaps by then everything would be sorted.

Clapping him on the shoulder, Harville shot him a pitying look before heading out the door and pulling it closed behind him, leaving Frederick alone to ponder.

If the letter had indeed been posted, it would have made today's post and most likely have reached him tomorrow. He would need a day at least to organise his departure from his brothers and another two to make it back to Lyme. That marked his day of return to the following Tuesday, five days from now.

Falling back on the bed and pulling the sheets over his head, Frederick wondered whether it might be possible to sleep right the way through till then. He was certainly going to try.


	22. Chapter 22

_I know, I know. Forgive me?_

_I had a small heart attack last week when I went into my writing folder and saw when I had last updated this…has it seriously been that long? (don't answer!). I've been away from writing for so long that I hope I still remember how to do it! Some of this might be a bit rusty._

_I hope very much to have this finished very, very soon…hopefully._

* * *

Frederick arrived at the Harville's home at the very date and time he had Harville had agreed to, three days earlier in his lodgings just across town.

The previous two days had been spent wondering around in the countryside beyond Lyme, lost in both the beauty of his surroundings and his own thoughts as he fought the urge to turn up at the Harville's door early and learn his fate sooner rather than later.

For all he wanted that third day to arrive, when it did come it was with great effort that he pulled himself from bed and dressed only to sink back down upon it and idle about for the better part of the morning. Breakfast had long past when he did make it down the stairs and into the lounge area of the inn and all they could offer him was some bread, cold meats and cheese.

He chewed slowly on the food. Savouring each and every bite before asking for his horse to be readied. It was when the stable lad came to tell him his mount was ready and waiting, that he finally seemed to awaken from his stupor.

Frederick rode purposely towards the harbour, his hesitance from earlier gone. He now just wanted it to be all over - one way or another.

Inside the house Harville waited. Sitting in his corner, his nets on his lap, he idly played with them. His fingers searching for the rips and tears whilst still managing to keep an eye on the door and an ear open for the familiar clip of a single rider.

Margaret Harville continually, and frequently glanced at her husband as she cleared away their morning meal from the table. Though he sat with his work spread out over his lap, she knew by the way he had gone over the same section of net five times now, that he was not fully committed to his task and, more than likely, had other matters on his mind.

"Is there something troubling you Harry?" she asked, halting her cleaning to stand and face him.

"Hmm"

"You seem distracted by something."

Harville rested his work upon his knee. "I am merely expectant my dear, for Frederick will surely be with us any day now and I am anxious to know the outcome."

"I suppose he will," Margaret agreed. "I too, hope that all matters are settled upon in an agreeable manner for all parties."

"As do I. What of Louisa's health this morning? How does she seem?"

"It is very strange," Margaret said, taking a seat next to her husband. "Yesterday, and in the days previous, she has been full of spirit and energy - as much as she can be after the accident - but today she is sombre and morose. If it were not for James I do not think she would say a word all day."

"I have been wondering about that and, though it both pains me and gives me pleasure, I do wonder whether they have formed an attachment to one another."

"James and Louisa?" Margaret questioned.

"Aye"

Margaret opened her mouth to speak but quickly shut it again. Glancing upstairs to where the pair in question where currently housed. "I must admit that I have not thought of that before. They have been spending a large amount of time with one another but I would have thought James too broken to be thinking about another just yet."

"I too, but Charles remarked on it the other day, a passing comment that he did not linger on, that his sister spent so much time in the company of Benwick that he would suppose him to be the doting suitor. Before then I had not given it a thought."

Margaret was silent as she thought it over. "Would it pain you much my dear, to see him move onto another so quickly?" She finally asked. Phoebe Harville had been a dear sister and friend to her but more so to her husband. He had been charged with her upbringing from a young age and they had been very close.

"No more than Phoebes passing has already caused. Though it would make me question how attached he was to her." He said, reaching out for her.

Taking her husbands hand she said, "Harry you know he adored her, and her him. You must never question that."

"When I compare him to Frederick though, and his devotion to Anne, even after all these years."

"You cannot compare them," she said, sliding from her seat to kneel on the floor in front of him. "They are two completely different tales of love. James and Fanny knew each other for years and grew into love. Frederick and Anne were mere acquaintances for a couple of weeks before falling in love. It was a more instant and deeper connection, though no less special than James and our sister."

"And ours?" he said with a smile.

"I knew you where for me Henry Harville, the very moment I set eyes upon you." She replied, as he helped her to her feet. Margaret kissed him tenderly on the cheek before asking. "Do you really expect Frederick today? Louisa did only send the letter a couple of days ago."

"I do not expect him to linger once he has received it. He will want to know his fate sooner rather than later. So yes, I do expect him today. And if not today, then tomorrow."

Margaret nodded. She squeezed his hand before letting it go and making towards the stairs. Standing at the foot of them, poised to ascend, she spoke to him. "I shall go and see that Louisa is able and ready to receive him then, should he arrive. Mr Elliot is also due to call and escort Anne on a short walk."

Harville frowned at this. "I do not like him."

Margaret laughed. "I would never have guessed."

"Charles is not keen on his either."

"Charles does not like him because he does not shoot, and for no other reason besides that."

"Hmm. I just find it odd, after everything Mrs Musgrove has said about the his situation within their family - and she has said a lot on the subject - that he should reappear now."

"Mayhap he has decided that now is the time to make amends. He has not long lost a wife, husband, and perhaps that has made him realise how important family is."

"Hmm," Harville said again. "It is still very strange."

"Harry Harville you gossip more than an old fishwife. There is probably no more in it than him wishing to make amends for his past behaviour. Though," she began after a short pause. "I wonder why he has remained in town for so long. Surely there can not be much for him to do and Bath is not so far away that he could not be reached where anything too happen." She shook her head, "Listen to me, I am beginning to sound just like you. I shall see to our guests."

Whilst Margaret returned upstairs and set about readying her two houseguests, one for a walk and one for a possible visitor, Harville attempted to get back to his work. It was not long however, when he was disrupted by a sharp knock at the door moments before Mr Elliot walked through.

"Good morning," Harville said in greeting, rising from his chair.

Mr Elliot came to stand stiffly in the centre of the room and tipped his hat. "I am here to escort Miss Elliot on a walk," he declared.

"I shall go and see if she is ready then." Harville had only taken two steps towards the stairs when Margaret appeared on the landing with Anne in tow. The latter was dressed up against the elements, the extra layers adding weight and bulk where there was previously none.

Mr Elliot's demeanour changed instantly at the arrival of his cousin. "Miss Anne," he said, taking her hand as she reached the foot of the small staircase, and bowing over it. "I hope I find you in good health today."

"I am feeling much better, thank you Mr Elliot. Is Lady Russell not joining us today?"

"She begs to be excused my dear cousin, for she has some correspondence to catch up on. Including, she tells me, a letter to your father and sister about your improving health." Anne nodded. "Shall we?" he asked, extending his arm to her.

"Do not be gone too long," Margaret warned them as they left. "Mr Elliot please make sure she does not go too far. She was quite exhausted the last time she came back and we must keep her strength up if she is ever to rejoin her family in Bath."

She turned to Anne then and took the younger womans hand. "Not that I wish to see you leave, but I do so desperately want to see you retuned to full health and, in being so, reunited with your family."

"I know you," Anne replied, "And I know you only want the best for everyone in every thing that they do. Though I am not sure I want to quit Lyme so soon. Your hospitality and friendship to virtual strangers, to me, has been nothing short of astonishing and I am greatly indebted to your generosity, caring and kindness. Both of you," she said, looking over Margaret's shoulder at Captain Harville.

Anne looked down, shy for a moment. "I would hope that, come the spring you might permit me, if the situation allows it, to return to Lyme and see you again. Captains Harville and Benwick have both spoken of the lovely walks and rides around this part of the world and I would dearly love to see them.

"You are always welcome, wherever we may have dropped our anchor." Harville said before his wife added, "Always."

Anne smiled, the action lighting up her face. "Thank you. Both of you." She turned to Mr Elliot briefly before turning back to the Harville's, "We shall not be long."

After they had left, Margaret leaned into his husbands side and let out a sigh. "I do so hope things work out between her and Frederick."

Harville was in agreement. "Me too."

* * *

As it happened, Anne and Mr Elliot where not gone more than five minutes when where was another knock at the door and a solemn, resigned looking Frederick walked in to the Harville residence. "Harville, Margaret." He said, shaking his friends hand.

"How are you Frederick?" Margaret asked as he bestowed a kiss upon her cheek, "I must express my surprise at seeing you so soon. I would have thought you to take more time in getting here, though Harry assured me we would be seeing you as soon."

"The sooner I know, the sooner I can move on with everything. One way or another." Was his reply.

Margaret patted his arm in sympathy. "I shall go and shoo Benwick from her room then, so that you might have some privacy."

Frederick waited until she was gone, leaving the two men alone, before asking, "How is Anne?"

"Better," Harville replied, taking a seat in his chair. "I believe she will be leaving us soon. Both her cousin and Lady Russell are anxious to return her to Bath and, providing the surgeon gives her a clean bill of health tonight when he visits, I should think they will whisk her away within a day or two."

Frederick nodded. "Then, if events should somehow go my way - God willing - I shall have a little time to speak with her before she is in tight grasp of her family once again."

"She is out for a walk with Mr Elliot at this moment," Harville told him. "We expect them back within the hour."

Frederick nodded, his attention to the conversation whining.

"Frederick," Harville began. He got no further though, as Benwick appeared at that moment with Margaret not too far behind him.

The young man looked awkward and continually shifted his glance between Frederick and the door as though calculating the distance between the two and whether he could make it before his former commanding officer. "Frederick," he said in a rather high pitched voice. "How are you?"

"Well, thank you James."

"That's, uh good. Very good."

Harville raised an eyebrow at his friends behaviour but Frederick saw nor heard any of it. Margaret had nodded to him and, after taking a deep breath, he made his way upstairs and towards his fate pausing only slightly at the door before knocking, being bade entry and passing through, the door shutting behind him.

He saw Louisa sitting on the edge of the bed, near to the fire and although he felt dread and apprehension at the meeting that was to follow, he could not help but be heartened to the fact that she was looking so much better than the last time he had seen her. Knowing that part of the reason for her remarkable recovery was down to Anne, only made his heart long for her that little bit more.

He stood for a long time waiting for her to say something, anything, but she seemed to be lost in her own little world. "Louisa," he said quietly, trying to gain her attention.

Her eyes snapped towards him and he saw instantly that she had been crying.

"Oh Frederick," she wailed suddenly, launching herself from the bed and into his arms, "You have come at last."

* * *

Benwick had followed Frederick's path for as long as he could before he heard the door of his former bedroom snap shut. This seemed to jolt him from his distraction. "I have some errands to run," he declared suddenly, heading to the door and pulling his coat from the small closet in the even smaller entrance hall. "I shall not be long." And with that he was gone.

Harville stared at the door for a long time after his friend had left, puzzled as to his behaviour. He then turned to his wife, "Perhaps there is some truth to Charles' ramblings after all, for a swear I have never seen Benwick move so fast."

Having nothing else to do then, Harville settled back and tried to pick up his working but found it impossible. Margaret set out everything for lunch but soon found herself with no more jobs to complete so, taking a seat next to her husband, they both waited, silently, for news from above.


	23. Chapter 23

_Many thanks to everyone who has been reading and those special people who took the time to review. It really means a lot to me, especially since I've been out of the game for so long._

_I had hoped that this would be longer but I've gone and hit a small stumbling block about 500 words after this chapter finishes (just a small one!) and thought, instead of keeping you waiting, that I would post this as is._

* * *

Frederick held her to him as she sobbed into his jacket. He patted her head awkwardly as his heart plummeted and he began to realise his fate.

"Its ok," he said aloud both to her and himself. And it would be. He could make this work. It was not that there was no feeling on his side, there was some and it would be enough to see them content with one another.

He was pulled from his musings when he felt, rather than heard, her respond. "Louisa?"

"It is not ok," she said, pulling away from him just long enough to speak. "You will hate me."

"I will not, and I do not. Why would I?" he asked.

She looked up at him, her face red and streaked with tears and he thought it best that he try and calm her down before Margaret found her way back up the stairs and gave him a telling off for upsetting her. "It will be ok," he said again, taking her by the shoulders, "I will speak to your father and we will get everything sorted out."

His words, instead of cheering her up, only caused her face to crumple even more as she let out another wail and again buried her face into his chest.

He was at a loss. Carefully moving them, he slowly backed her towards the bed and made her sit. Pulling a clean handkerchief from his pocket, he held it out to her before kneeling in front of her, taking her hand in his and asking her what was wrong.

"You will hate me," she said again, wiping at her eyes.

"Louisa, I will not hate you. Please, tell me what is the matter?" He dared not mention speaking of her father again but began to perhaps wonder if there was a problem there. Had her family been by and been offended that he was not at her side? Were they angry with him? The next words she uttered pulled him from his thoughts suddenly.

"I am going to break your heart." And with that her crying intensified again. Pulling her hand from his, Louisa buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

Frederick was now completely, and utterly confused.

"Louisa I, I don't understand."

She took several deep, gulping breaths and tried to calm down. He remained silent throughout, unsure of what to say, when everything he did say, seemed to upset her even more.

"Please," he said, no longer able to wait. "I promise I will not be mad, nor will I hate you. Please, just tell me what is going on."

"I, I know that we…had an understanding of sorts," she began, avoiding his eye and looking towards the ground. "And I really did think that…that I was in love with you but," her breath hitched again. "But I find that I am no longer able to commit myself to you for I have fallen for another and I, I regret that I must do this but I could not lead you on any more. I must call this off." She looked at him then, her eyes pleading. "Please do not fight with me over this, it is for the best, even if I am hurting you. We would not have been happy together."

Never had such a weight been lifted from his shoulders. He suddenly felt as light as a feather and was mightily surprised when he did not float away from sheer happiness. She was releasing him. She no longer held any deep regard for him (if had any in the first place). She had fallen for another.

"Who?" he asked suddenly, quickly coming to the conclusion that there could not have been too many visitors to the Harville's house and for a heart stopping moment he thought maybe all was not right and that she had perhaps formed an unhealthy attachment to Harville or,

"James," she said quietly.

"James? Benwick!"

"Yes."

Frederick was stunned. "I do not know what to say."

"Please Frederick, do not be mad."

She looked so emotional and fragile that he pushed aside what he was going to say and instead, taking up her hand again, kissed it and decided to be truthful. "I am happy for you," he said, catching her gaze and holding it. "You are a lovely young woman Louisa, but I had come to a realisation in the previous weeks that although I do care for you and love you dearly, that I am not in love with you and nothing gives me greater joy than to hear you speak of your own love for another for it saves us both from a life, that would have been happy but perhaps without that deeper connection I see in my sister and the Admiral, and in your parents."

"Do you really mean that?"

"I do."

"Oh Frederick," she cried again, flinging her arms about him to hug him. "James will be so pleased, he had thought you might run him through or make him walk the plank."

"Never fear," Frederick replied with a smile, "I shall leave him in one piece."

She smiled at this and it did Frederick good to see her happy and well. "You are a good man Frederick Wentworth. I wish you all the happiness."

He stood then, bowed over her hand and left the room. Standing just the other side of the door once it shut, he took a deep breath and let it out, chuckling to himself and shaking his head. He could not believe it. Benwick! Benwick of all people. Benwick who was supposedly still nursing a broken heart over the lose of the love of his life. He had seen and heard some strange things in his life but this really astounded him.

He decided to cast it from his mind however, and concentrate on only one thing now - Anne.

Descending the stairs two at a time, he came across the Harville's in their main room. Each looked at him, expectant and he could not help but laugh. The smile plastered across his face was more than either needed to discern what had happened.

Margaret rose and kissed him on the cheek before moving past him and going to check on Louisa. Despite what might have happened and the fact that Frederick was in such a good mood, she thought it a good idea to check in on the young woman to see how she fared.

Harville moved to congratulate his friend and soon found himself lifted from his feet and swung in a circle. Once he had been set down and had regained his balance he said, "I take it, it all went well?"

"I am as free as free can be Harry, and damn does it feel good." Frederick said, slapping his friend on the back.

"Did she give a reason?"

"She did."

"Well?"

Frederick suddenly felt a little awkward. He knew how much Harry had been looking forward to calling Benwick his brother. He did not really want to be the bearer of such news, but neither did he want to lie to his friend. So he settled upon the truth. "She has formed an attachment to Benwick and he to her. I am sorry my friend."

Harville waved him off. "We began to suspect, and I shall tell you what I said to Margaret. It pains me a little to see him moving on but I am glad. He was never a man to sit about and mope Frederick, even you know this, and I look forward to seeing the Benwick of old again for I have missed him." He pondered for a moment, "It does make sense now."

"What does?" Frederick asked, as Harville sat himself down again.

"Why he hightailed it out of here this morning just after you arrived. Said he had some things to do."

"Louisa did say he was worried how I might react?"

"Then he has not being paying much attention for Margaret and I have been discussing your situation several times at the dinner table." He looked up at Frederick who was still standing in the middle of the room. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

"Harville?"

"They where going to walk along the shoreline." Was the reply he got.

Frederick let out a laugh - he was doing that often - and bidding his friend farewell, stepped out of the Harville residence and into the sea air. It was at that moment, when he took a deep breath, that everything from the past half and hour hit him. Louisa was engaged to Benwick and had released him. He was now a free man. Free to do as he pleased and pursue whom he wanted.

Deciding to take Harville's subtle advice, he set off along the shoreline at a brisk pace for there would be no better time to start than now.


	24. Chapter 24

_Thank you all so much for the reviews you've been leaving. Each one is like a nudge or a push back to this story (and in some cases, a swift kick up the backside) and they really are very much appreciated._

_This chapter did just not want to be written. I've struggled with it for over four months now and although I know what I want to say, it just isn't happening so I'm afraid you guys are getting it as is. Sorry._

* * *

It was a good twenty minutes before he spotted them, or rather, just her. A solitary figure on the beach, not far from where the waves were breaking. He cast about for Mr Elliot but when he could not see him, he approached her. Silently cursing the other man for leaving her alone whilst at the same time rejoicing that she was on her own and that he would have a chance to speak away from the prying ears and eyes of others.

Purposeful steps carried him towards her, taking the time to truly study her. She looked smaller and frailer than he had ever seen her but before him she stood, on her own two feet. The sun on her face and the wind in her hair making her look more alive than he had seen her since his return.

His boots crunched over the shells and she turned at the sound. The expression on her face instantly giving away her surprise at seeing him. He saw her swallow nervously before schooling her features, squaring her shoulders and meeting him head on.

"Miss Elliot," he said as he neared her, taking off his hat.

"Captain Wentworth." she acknowledged.

"How are you?"

"I am better, thank you."

"A lot better I should imagine." He said, stepping closer and looking around. "Harville said you where out with Mr Elliot."

"Mr Elliot had to return to the inn to deal with an urgent message."

"And he just left you out here, by yourself?" Frederick asked.

Anne frowned at him. "I am able to walk the short distance back to the Harville's house unaccompanied Captain Wentworth. I do not need an escort."

Frederick looked at his feet. This was not going as he planned. "Would you allow me to escort you anyway?" he asked. "Not for you, but for my own safety. Margaret would dismember me if she found out I had left you here on your own." He held out his arm to her and waited.

Anne had been enjoying some time alone on the shore once Mr Elliot had left her. He had not wanted to leave but the express had been urgent and she knew she would be unable to keep up with him on the way back to the inn. So she had elected to stay on the beach and enjoy the fresh air for a little longer. Promising him that she would continue at her own pace towards the Harville's home after he left.

Whilst she had been walking with her cousin she had begun to realise that her time in Lyme was drawing to close. That soon she would be surrounded by the sights and sounds of the city of Bath and not the cool costal salt tinged breeze that accompanied her stay here. She felt its loss already.

When she had heard the footsteps draw towards her, she had turned, expecting to see Mr Elliot returning but instead coming face to face with a man she thought was long out of her life.

She had been surprised to hear of his departure from Lyme and was equally as surprised to here of his return. She was more surprised to see him on the beach with her and without Louisa on his arm.

Thinking that this might be the last time they would be together before any announcements where made concerning both of their futures, and that this might be the perfect opportunity to clear the air between them, she took his arm and together they set off back along the beach.

They hadn't gone far before Frederick felt Anne leaning more heavily on his arm and her step faltering ever so slightly. Knowing she would not say anything, Frederick gently steered them up the beach front and towards the natural break line.

They walked in a strained silence. Frederick kept his strides short and slow to allow her plenty of time and Anne, though she did not say anything, was grateful. She was beginning to realise that she had perhaps pushed herself to far this morning.

Frederick, although he too never said a word, felt her leaning more heavily on his arm and when they came upon a small rocky wall high up the shoreline he stopped and turned to her, taking both of her hands in his and bade her to sit.

"Captain," she began, trying to pull her hands from his.

"Sit" he said.

"I,"

Taking his hands from hers, Frederick laid them on her shoulders and firmly pushed her into a seating position. "Sit," he said again, in a tone that Anne was sure he used when commanding his men. One that brokered no opposition. Pouting, and trying to look like she was not, Anne complied and settled herself upon the wall, grateful for the rest.

They lapsed into silence again.

Anne pondered his sudden reappearance. Margaret had said they expected him to return any day now and Anne had hoped that she would be long on her way to Bath before he arrived back in Lyme. She did not think she would be able to maintain a happy façade around the happy couple and their friends - her friends. Not when her heart was breaking for a second time.

She glanced at him. He leant against the wall she was sitting on, his gaze out far across the water. Taking in everything from the high rise cliffs to the right, the harbour to the left and the gulls overhead. She could easily imagine him on the desk of a magnificent ship, cutting a swath through the ocean blue. Tall and regal in his uniform, his critical eye watching his men as they laboured on deck.

He looked as though he belonged and she felt a sudden pang that she would never have a chance to see the scene firsthand. For he was destined to be with another. Louisa would be the one to have the privilege of standing by his side and seeing for herself the wonders of far of countries and new worlds and Anne would, once again, be left with only a few lines of print here and there in Navy lists and newspapers.

He turned to her then and caught her staring, and she turned away, a blush rising on her face. Where the years had changed her beyond recognition, he had only grown more beautiful.

Frederick was, at that moment, thinking the very same. His misspoken words weeks before during that morning walk in the woods surrounding the Musgrove's home where long forgotten and he now recognised her for the woman she had grown into. Here was the Anne Elliot he knew eight years ago, but with a maturity, grace and wisdom that age had brought.

He cursed himself again for what he nearly let slip from his life.

Anne turned from him in the hope that he might take the hint and leave her be. She did not want his company any longer. Not now that he had returned to be at Louisa's side. She was suddenly glad that her time in Lyme was about to end, especially if it meant that she did not have to face him and his wife to be on a daily basis.

"Would you like a little more time to rest?" he asked. "Or shall we continue?"

He was not going anywhere. Not till he had safely escorted her back to Harry's and hopefully had a chance to talk with her.

"I would like to rest a little more," she replied, not looking at him. "But do not feel inclined to stay Captain, I shall manage very well on my own from here."

"I shall stay, if you do not mind."

"I do not," she lied easily, "But perhaps there are others at the Harville's who would prefer to have your company."

"You do not like my company?" he teased.

"I am merely observing that there are people you should be spending more time with."

"I presume you mean Louisa?"

Anne nodded. "Would it be too soon to offer my congratulations?"

Frederick pushed off from the stone wall and took a few steps away. She believed him to already be an engaged man and was trying to make this easy for him. He could not help but smile, it was just so like Anne.

"They would be a little premature," he admitted, turning to face her, "And completely worthless in reference to a union between Louisa and myself. She has decided to make Benwick a very happy man and I could not be happier for the pair of them."

Anne seemed to be immediately dumbstruck. "Louisa? And Captain Benwick" she gasped. "But I had thought, I mean," she paused then, suddenly aware of to whom she was speaking.

"You mean, I suppose, in light of my actions over the last several months. The rumours and words spoken by both my family and hers, even by the lady herself, that there was a courtship taking place between Miss Musgrove and myself and that it was all but nearly decided that we would wed."

"It was much expected," Anne admitted. Her heart raced. What did this mean?

"It was my fault," he explained coming back to the wall where he chose a spot to sit right by her. "I did nothing to stop her and encouraged her even, to think that she could claim a place in my heart. She is a charming girl and I imagine that we could have settled happily with one another. But I didn't love her. Not like I love you."

She could only stare at him.

"Am I fooling myself Anne? To think that I might have another chance?" He turned to face her then, his expression open and honest. "I know you must detest me now, especially after everything I have done in the last couple of months but I hope, I pray, that you might allow me the time to show you just how much you mean to me."

Anne trembled. She had, only minutes before, considered him lost to her forever and now here he was declaring himself openly and without restraints. She did not know what to think, nor what to do. She stood suddenly and Frederick followed closely.

"I," Anne began, her throat dry. What should she say?

"Cousin?"


	25. Chapter 25

_I had thought that this might be the last chapter, or perhaps the lead into the last chapter but I don't think it will be. To be perfectly honest with you all, I'm not sure how this is going to end…any ideas?_

_To the Guest who left a review commenting on my spelling, is it actual spelling mistakes or grammatical spelling mistakes? Cause I cant see any of the former, but would bet on there being several of the later._

* * *

Starting, and uttering a gasp, Anne stumbled as the voice of Mr Elliot cut through the air.

Fredericks arm came to rest protectively around her waist as her hands failed and came to rest on his arms. "Are you ok?" Frederick asked softly, his head bent near her ear. Anne felt herself lean towards him ever so slightly, seeking the comfort and warmth that he suddenly provided..

"Miss Anne?" Came the staid voice again and Anne made herself move and answer. Her grip on Frederick lessened and he felt her hands slip away, but kept his arm about her middle.

"I am fine," she answered to the Captains earlier question.

He smiled down at her, "If you are sure."

"I am."

It was only then that she turned and acknowledged Mr Elliot. "Sir," she said, taking the smallest of steps away from Captain Wentworth. The captain himself took a diagonal step forward to the right, effectively placing himself in front of Anne and in the way of the other man.

Mr Elliot barely spared the other man a glance as he reached forward and took one of Anne's hands within his own, but short, sharp look that he did send was full of distain and loathing.

"Are you well Anne? Your complexion is pale."

Barely restraining himself at Elliot's use of her first name, and from the interruption at a crucial moment, Frederick held out his arm to her as Anne pulled her hand from her cousins and laid it on Fredericks arm.

"I am well, thank you Mr Elliot."

"I did not expect you to still be out. You are still recovering."

"We where on our way home sir," Frederick said, "If you will excuse us."

Scanning him from head to toe, Mr Elliot gave the Navy Captain another barely disguised look of disgust before saying, "I do not believe we have been introduced sir."

"Mr Elliot," Anne rushed to make the introductions "This is Captain Wentworth. Captain, my cousin Mr Elliot."

Both men tipped their hats at the other but made no move to shake hands. They stood facing one another, their postures erect and tall, sizing each other up.

"I did not realise you where back in Lyme Captain Wentworth. Lady Russell had thought you would not return."

Frederick bristled. Lady Russell had never had a high opinion of him when they first met and it seemed as though that had not changed. "I had always planned to return Mr Elliot. Lady Russell must have been misinformed."

"And how is your fiancé? I heard about her fall on the cob. Such a terrible…accident."

Frederick felt like laughing. The little man (for Elliot was a good head shorter than him) was trying to bait him. "Miss Musgrove is doing quite well, thank you Mr Elliot but again I believe you have been misinformed again. Louisa is engaged to my good friend Captain Benwick, and I wish them every happiness."

The conversation was clearly not going the way that Mr Elliot hoped and he stood for a moment twirling his walking stick about. "I had not heard that piece of happy news. I shall be sure to pass on my salutations."

"I am sure they would appreciate them."

"Indeed."

More silence.

"If you will excuse us Mr Elliot. I believe we should be getting back," Frederick said eventually when it became clear that the other man was not going to say anything or leave anytime soon.

"Yes, I believe my cousin should not be out much longer in this weather. I shall escort you back." Turning and speaking to Anne directly, "Lady Russell said she would be paying you a visit this morning."

Frederick tried not to act too despondent. If Lady Russell was indeed waiting for them as they returned to the Harville's residence, and Mr Elliot insisted on accompanying them, then he was not going to have any chance today of continuing his conversation with Anne. _"Damn it," _he thought, _"And damn that Mr Elliot."_

Meanwhile Anne, who was still reeling from the earlier conversation with Captain Wentworth, was trying to appear as though she was not. She cursed Mr Elliot's poor timing and wished that it were possible to rewind the clock just a little and replay the part where Frederick said he loved her and, perhaps then, she would have an answer for him.

To say that his declaration had taken her by surprise was an understatement. Minutes before he had shocked her by revealing that he was not to marry Louisa after all and then to say what he did. It had simply been too much to take in and she had found herself floundering.

It had been months, years perhaps, since she had resigned herself to the fact that Frederick would never again be hers - certainly his actions over the last two months had cemented that belief and for him to suddenly turn around and say what he did, she did not know what to think. Not right at that moment.

"Shall we?" Frederick said to Anne, when Mr Elliot failed to say anything else.

Anne kept a tight grip on his arm as they slowly made their way back to the Harville's house, walking along the shore line with Mr Elliot in tow. Frederick spent the time silently wondering whether he had said enough and said it well.

Mr Elliot walked by his cousins side and contemplated the sudden change of events. Lady Russell had called Captain Wentworth an infatuation of Anne's from her youth, someone who had taken advantage of her youth and was long forgotten. Mr Elliot was not too sure.

When he had come upon them on the beach, he had stood for a long while just watching them together. The looks and touches they had exchanged said to him that there was more to their acquaintance than Lady Russell supposed. How this would affect his plans, he did not know but of what he was certain, was that he had to remove his cousin from this Wentworth fellow as soon as possible.

"I am hopeful, cousin, that your improved health might mean we will depart for Bath soon. I know that your father and sister look forward to your company."

Following that statement, Frederick fought the urge to bark out a laugh. It was clear to him that despite being part of it, this man did not know the family at all. Looking down at Anne, he could see that she was rather surprised as well.

"I am sure they are both enjoying their time in Bath," Anne replied diplomatically, though she had received no correspondence from either since she had been in Lyme she supposed it to be so.

Mr Elliot continued to exhort the virtues of Bath, a city that he thought was only second to London, whilst they walked, with Anne nodding occasionally and responding when necessary. It was during this exchange, where Mr Elliot was completely ignoring the naval captain the other side of his cousin, that Frederick caught Anne's eye as she looked up and they shared a glance.

It was after that look that Frederick allowed himself to relax and enjoy the feel of Anne's arm on his own as they neared the Harville's.


	26. Chapter 26

_Many thanks to those that left reviews. Special thanks to ArtNScience, you've given me a great idea for an epilogue!_

_I'd like to add an icon to this story, but cant seem to find one I want. Does anyone know where I might find one of Anne watching Frederick leave for Lyme after dropping her and Henrietta at the Great House? Preferably the Hinds/Roots Persuasion._

* * *

Captain Harry Harville was uncomfortable. He sat in his chair in the living area of his home, fidgeting and wishing he could be anywhere else but here.

Lady Russell sat opposite him.

The Lady had arrived at the Harville's door a good twenty minutes before looking for Anne and not finding her there, had decided to stay after hearing she was out with Mr Elliot and was likely to return soon.

Harville had been praying for Anne's return every minute since.

The sound of the front door opening and several people being admitted into his home had never delighted Harville as it did now.

Anne was first to appear in the doorway leading from the small hallway, Frederick and Mr Elliot close behind. They both attempted to pass through the doorway at the same time, shoulders jostling, till Mr Elliot took a step back and allowed the taller, broader navel Captain to pass in front of him. A scowl marred his features as he did so. It was clear to everyone that he was not happy.

Fredericks look was one of triumph till he turned and caught sight of who awaited their arrival.

Lady Russell stood as they entered the room, and Anne immediately went to greet her. Harville caught Frederick's eye and they shared a look. Lady Russell loudly welcomed Mr Elliot, asking him how he was, how his morning had been and the like whilst Frederick waited for his introduction.

It was the first time in eight long years since he had been in the same room as the woman whom he blamed for ruining his life and his chance of happiness with the woman that he loved. He had escaped a meeting at Kellynch, having been at Lyme then Shropshire when she had been at home. Sophy had mentioned her in her letters to him, and seemed to find her rather pleasant. Frederick was determined to be on his best behaviour however, and remained standing where he was till she took notice of him.

Harville watched the proceedings with a growing sense of anger for his friend. Deciding that he had had enough of Lady Russell ignoring his friend, and since it was his house after all, Harville, during a break in the conversation, cleared his throat and said. "I believe you know my good friend Captain Wentworth, Lady Russell."

There was a moment of silence after which Frederick bowed, low and graceful, "Lady Russell."

"Captain Wentworth." The lady replied. There was no love lost between them and had she not been so important to Anne, he would have happily had never seen her again in his lifetime. As it was, Anne had very few people who loved her unconditionally and he knew that should he be successful in his suit, he would be in Lady Russell's company frequently. With that thought forefront in his mind, he straightened and greeted her amicably - much to the surprise of the Lady herself and the others in the room.

Lady Russell recovered from the shock well, though Anne alone could tell she was taken aback by Frederick's greeting. Anne turned away to hide a small smile.

The group lapsed into awkward conversation with Frederick asking Lady Russell about her journey from Kellynch, whethere the inn she was staying at (different from his own) was to her liking and how she had found Lyme.

"May I offer you all something to drink?" Harville asked, as the conversation lulled.

"I shall not be staying long Captain Harville," Lady Russell replied. "I just need a few moments of Anne's time to discuss some details then I shall be on my way." Turning to her young friend she asked, "Is there somewhere were we might speak privately?"

"Oh, yes," Anne said. She had been pondering what details Lady Russell could possibly want to talk to her about. "If you will follow me to my room, I have to put my coat away anyway."

"Would you be so kind Mr Elliot, to await my return? I have some matters to speak with you about as well."

"It would be my pleasure Lady Russell."

With that the two ladies of the party disappeared up the staircase and onto the upper lever of the house. The men heard the door snap shut before they resumed any conversation.

"Would like you like something to drink Mr Elliot?" Harville asked. He did not like the man, not one little bit, but Margaret would skin him alive if she ever found out he had been rude to the man in their own home.

"No thank you," was the curt reply he received as the future baronet of Kellynch settled himself in a chair to wait the return of Anne and Lady Russell. Harville prayed they would not be too long.

"Frederick?"

"Please, but do not get up Harry. I will see to it myself." Harville shot his friend a glare as Frederick left the room.

With Frederick in the kitchen, Harville and Mr Elliot sat in silence. Each hoping that the ladies return would be sooner rather than later. It was with some surprise then, that Mr Elliot suddenly got to his feet and strode into the kitchen.

Harville remained where he was. Perhaps, he thought, it would do the two of them some good to voice their opinions of one another and stake their claims. He was not worried about his friend in the slightest. He had known Frederick long enough that to know that his friend preferred to settled matters with the spoken word (which he was very good at doing), but that he was also more than capable to defend himself with his fists if it came to it. Harville hoped that, in that instance (should it occure) that Frederick be mindful of Margaret's plates and dishes. There would be hell to pay if they got damaged.

He settled back and waited. The walls where thin enough, he would know if he was needed.

* * *

Anne led Lady Russell into the room she had called her own for several weeks now. As she hung up her coat, bonnet and shawl, Lady Russell shut the door quietly and took a seat on the only chair in the room. Anne sat on the bed when she was finished and poured herself a glass of water from the jug on the bedside table that Margaret always kept full for her.

"Are you sure you are alright Anne? You look rather flushed."

"I am fine," Anne reassured her friend. "Really. I think I merely walked a little too far this morning."

"Hrmph. Captain Wentworth should not have made you walk as far as he did. He has shown no consideration for your ill health." It was clear that despite his behaviour downstairs just minutes previous, that Lady Russell still held a great deal of animosity towards the Naval Captain.

"Lady Russell, Captain Wentworth found me on the beach whilst he was out on his own walk. It was I who walked myself too far, not him. He very kindly offered me his arm for the journey back and for that I am grateful. I would hate to undo all Margaret's good work. She has been so attentive to my health."

"So you are feeling better then?"

"Much, though I still tire easily and my appetite has yet to fully return."

"Good," Lady Russell said, "I am glad you are feeling better. I shall instruct the surgeon to see to you this afternoon and if he says it is ok, we will set out for Bath in the morning."

"Bath? Tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Lady Russell, I do not think that I am up to the journey."

"Nonsense," the Lady said, casting her eyes about the room. "You can not stay here forever Anne. I will admit that the Harville's have done very well by you but you must see that you are a burden to them. Think of what it must be costing them to keep you and Louisa Musgrove under their roof. Not to mention that Mrs Harville must be missing her other children and will be happy to see you and Miss Musgrove off home so that she can get them back."

Anne lowered her gaze, ashamed of herself. In all the time she had been here she had not once thought about the financial responsibilities that the Harville's had taken on to nurse firstly Louisa, and then herself back to full health. Even before she was a patient of Margaret's she had been a guest. The allowance she received from her father was small but Anne made a promise to herself there and then that she would reimburse the Harville's for their kindness and their friendship.

"If I send for the surgeon this afternoon, will you see him?" Lady Russell asked. Anne nodded her acceptance. Perhaps Lady Russell was correct. Maybe she had spent too long in Lyme. Just thinking about leaving brought a pain to her chest though, and she remembered Frederick's words on the beach this morning. Would he follow her to Bath?

And Mr Elliot, what of him? Anne knew that her friend liked him and thought the pair of them well suited. Even Anne had to admit that the thought of residing at Kellynch Hall for the rest of her life, of running the affairs and implementing the changes badly needed, was tempting. But she knew nothing about him. Oh he had talked a great deal when he had visited or when they went for short walks around the harbour, but the subject matter was never anything of great importance. She felt she hardly knew him at all.

"Shall you need help to pack? I can send my maid over this evening."

Anne shook her head. She did not have much with her. "Most of my trunks are still at Mary's," she said.

"I will send word to have them sent on to Bath."

When Anne made no reply, Lady Russell drew her gaze back to her. "Come now Anne. I know Bath has never been a favourite of yours but there shall be plenty to keep you both amused and entertained. And Mr Elliot is come to with us. I believe he means to stay on in Bath for some time for which I am very glad. I do so enjoy his company, and I believe he enjoys yours as well."

Anne forced herself to smile.

"Well, I believe that is all. If the surgeon returns a favourable verdict then I shall be round at 9 o'clock for you. Till then my dear." Lady Russell swept in on her and planted a kiss on her cheek. She was just about to leave the room when an almighty crash could be heard from downstairs.

In no time at all Anne had passed by her friend, ran down the staircase and, finding no one in the front room where they had left them, made her way back into the kitchen.

"Oh my. Frederick!"


	27. Chapter 27

_Thank you for all the reviews on the last chapter. Extra special thanks go to ambereyes55 for being my 300th reviewer on this story! Its quite a remarkable number._

_Now, guess where I've been! Bath! I was staying in Bristol last weekend for an event in Cardiff when I suddenly realised how close it was to Bath. So with nothing else to do on Sunday before flying back home we took the ten minute train ride to the city. And I fell in love._

_I'm an Edinburgh girl - born, raised and until last weekend it was the only place I've ever wanted to stay. But then there is Bath. The buildings and the history. I was fangirling all over the place. I got my picture taken at the Royal Crescent, ate lunch at the assembly rooms and saw such sights as Gay street, Laura place, the pump rooms and places where Jane Austen herself lived._

_It was so nice to finally see somewhere that I'd been reading, and writing about, for years, first hand and I feel I now know the city a little better. I can certainly visualise it much better now. I just cant wait to get back there!_

* * *

Escaping to the kitchen, under the guise of fixing himself a cup of tea, seemed like the best solution, Frederick thought as he removed his jacket and set it upon one of the hooks affixed to the wall.

With Mr Elliot continuing to loiter about in Harville's front room and Lady Russell upstairs with Anne (no doubt talking her into leaving Lyme, and his company, at that very moment), he felt like he needed a moment to himself to think over what had occurred in the very short time since he had appeared at the Harville's door that morning.

First had come Louisa's shock announcement. It was fair to say that he had not been expecting it and up until that moment he had thought that all other avenues of life were closed to him. He had certainly resigned himself to the fact. But then, with some few, simple words, his life had been steered back on track.

It had not been long after that, that he had found Anne alone on the beach. Though the conversation had not gone entirely the way he would have liked it to, Frederick had to admit to himself that he had expressed his intentions in as clear a manner as it had been possible to do so, considering the circumstances. If Mr Elliot had not shown up when he did, then Frederick supposed that he would have been in a different mood right now.

And now Lady Russell was here. Frederick had known all along that Anne could not stay indefinitely in Lyme. He, had brought her here himself to care for Louisa (a task she had undertaken with the utmost care and dedication) and now that the task was complete, and her own health recovered, it was time that she was on her way.

Frederick did not want her to leave with any questions or doubts though, and he meant to stay at the Harville's for as long as possible that day until she was fully aware of both his hopes and dreams.

Whilst these thoughts were running through his head, Frederick automatically readied the items he needed to make a pot of tea. The large copper kettle had already been happily boiling away on the stove when he arrived, so leaving that to the side for one minute, he gathered the other necessities. He poured some of the hot water from the copper kettle into the small china teapot and let it warm the pot. He laid out cream, some tea leaves and a cup.

Despite focusing on his task, Frederick heard the other gentleman enter the room. He knew instantly that it was not Harville - since his accident the man walked with a very distinct step - but did not immediately acknowledge the other man at first. He finished what he was doing.

"Have you changed your mind about tea?" he finally asked, turning and looking at Mr Elliot. Mr Elliot stood a few steps in the room, not too far away from the hearth with its heat, and cast a critical eye about the room. He sniffed and then wrinkled his nose as the smells of a working kitchen hit it. Frederick meanwhile had emptied the warm water from the delicate china teapot and refilled it with fresh, boiling water before adding the tea leaves. He stirred them in and then replaced the lid. He settled the teapot on the table. The kettle went on its metal stand.

"No," said Mr Elliot. "I have other matters to discuss with you."

Frederick poured himself a cup of tea from the teapot and stirred in some cream. It was not until he had taken his first sip, and a seat by the fire, that he answered.

"Then by all means," he said. "Discuss away."

Mr Elliot frowned. "It is my understanding," he said, "That you were acquainted with Anne in her youth."

"I was," Frederick acknowledged. There had been no question as such, more a statement, but he felt like he should like to answer as not.

"And that you convinced her, with pretty words and false promises, to accept a proposal from you. Yes," Mr Elliot said, "I have heard it all from Lady Russell."

Frederick took a deep breath and composed his answer. He would like nothing better than to wipe the smarmy look from the other gentleman's face but knew that that course of action would be futile.

"As like this morning sir, I am afraid you are sadly mistaken. Yes, I did know Miss Elliot very well when I stayed near to Kellynch, and yes she did accept my proposal of marriage, but it was out of the mutual affection we both felt for one another and for no other reason. I would like to advise you Mr Elliot, to take anything else that you might hear in regards to myself, or my relationship with Miss Elliot, with a pinch of salt."

Twins spots of colour, high on Mr Elliot's cheeks, were the only outward sign that he was not happy. "You still seduced her."

Frederick threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh. "No Mr Elliot, I did not. I merely listened when others had previously not." He failed to add that his usual charm and self confidence had all but evaporated around Anne.

Placing the tea cup on the table, Frederick stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed his arms. "Shall we cut to the chase Mr Elliot? Can you tell me what it is you really want?"

Elliot tapped his cane on the floor before answering. "I mean to marry Anne, Captain Wentworth, and I will not allow anyone to stand in my way."

"I see," Frederick said. "You do know that you will need her consent to do that."

"I will have it."

"You seem certain about that."

"I am."

"I see," Frederick said again, nodding. "Then I take it you mean to warn me off."

"I can make it worth your while, should you leave immediately and not have any more contact with the Elliot family." Elliot produced a small bag of coins from inside his jacket and flung them on the table. "Half now and half when I am certain you will do as you are bid."

Frederick picked up the bag and weighed it in his palm. It was no small amount.

"I will also see to it that your relatives are provided with alternative accommodation. My solicitor already has several different properties for them to look at."

"None within a 50 miles radius I suspect." Frederick answered.

"Indeed."

Frederick placed the bag back on the table.

When Mr Elliot had first appeared in the kitchen Frederick had every reason to suspect where the conversation might lead, and he had imagined raising his fists and sending the gutless idiot flying. Instead of losing his temper though, and do not make the assumption that he was not angry, he felt eerily calm.

"I do not know quite what to say Mr Elliot. I thank you for your offer," the other man perked up at this, before Frederick continued, "But I can not, I will not accept it."

There was no outward appearance of change in Mr Elliot, but Frederick saw the mans knuckles turn white as his hands gripped the cane he carried.

"What you fail to realise Mr Elliot, is that despite the fact that you may be better suited both socially and financially to Miss Anne, that I am in love with her and there was one time that she felt the same. Should I have any chance at finding out if we can have that same state again, then I am going to go after it."

"I do not mean to lose" Elliot said coldly.

"You have made a poor start of it," Frederick said. "You do would not give the time of day to those she has come to see as friends, you do not acquaint yourself with the family she really cares for and you could not be bothered to take every care with her. Need I remind you Elliot, that you left her alone on the beach this morning." His voice had continually risen as he spoke. He paused and took a deep breath. "I know what makes her laugh and what bores her to tears. I know her favourite foods, her favourite pathways around the grounds of Kellynch and I know that she loves her family, despite their failings, with all her heart."

He fixed Elliot with a stare. "I know that should she marry you, she would have a stable, fashionable life gracing the finest sitting rooms and balls rooms of Bath and London but I should like to think that she would not be completely happy. In comparison I have little to offer. I have no fixed address, many of the people I know well and call friend, reside in areas I doubt you even know exist. I have some money now true, but without proper investment it would not support a family the way I would like. I may also be called back to sea, should another war break out and there would be no guarantee of my safe return."

Frederick shrugged. "This is all pointless conjecture anyway. The final decision shall be Miss Elliot's, as it should be." Frederick looked the other man in the eyes. "I mean to have my say Mr Elliot. No petty bribes or barbed words are going to stand in my way."

"You mean not to back down then?" Mr Elliot asked.

Frederick fought the urge to roll his eyes. "No. I do not."

"Fine." Mr Elliot stepped forward and collected the bag of money from the table. As he turned to walk away, Frederick stood. What happened next Frederick would never be entirely sure about. He was certain that whilst standing he did not knock or hit the table in any way, but move it did and some of the contents shifted. Including the three legged metal stand for the large copper kettle - still full of its scolding load.

The kettle fell sideways onto the table, its lid flying off and the contents hitting Frederick on his right arm, before the kettle and its stand continued their fall and smashed loudly onto the floor below.

It took a second for the pain receptors to kick in and when they did Frederick let out a howl on pain before he clamped his teeth over his lower lip. He grasped at his right arm with his left as though trying to squeeze the pain out. It did not work though. The pain in his arm only seemed to increase.

Eyes squeezed tightly together he did not see the smirk across Mr Elliot's features, a look that quickly vanished when Harville raced into the room.

"Good G-d Frederick, what happened?"

Breathing through his teeth, Frederick failed to answer as Harville steadied him the best he could and helped him to sit. A noise like thunder could be heard then and Frederick sensed, rather than saw, another presence enter the room. He did not need to hear her words to know who it was.

"Oh my. Frederick!"


	28. Chapter 28

_I love it when people leave reviews. I especially like it when you guys tell me about the bits you didn't particularly like or something I may have done wrong. What I'm not too keen on though, is when people leave those reviews as a "guest" and don't leave any sort of name. I do like to get in touch with my reviewers from time to time, especially when they leave thought provoking messages, and leaving an anonymous review stops me from doing that. Which kind of sucks._

_Anyways I had hoped to have this chapter out a lot sooner, and have the whole story finished before Nanowrimo because I really wanted to take part this year but…oh well, there's always next year! In other news, the end of this story is in sight though it might be a little more drawn out than I imagined since Fredericks gone and injured himself…_

_Now I have never scolded myself (at least not badly) but I would imagine that its pretty darn painful._

* * *

The pain was immense.

The copper kettle had been on the fire for well over an hour when Frederick had finally removed it, and with the metal retaining heat so well, its contents had still been boiling hot when they landed on his arm. He bit his lip to stifle the sounds he wanted to make.

He had burnt his skin numerous times in the past whilst he had been onboard his ships out in the warm Caribbean seas - even, at times, off the coast of Britain - but at those times it had been a minor inconvenience. This was excruciating.

On its way down the kettle had caught him on the middle of the upper section of his arm, spilling the contents down his right arm, hand and, to a lesser extent, the right side of his chest.

Concentrating on the pain and trying not to let it overwhelm him, Frederick started a little when a small pair of hands, holding a wet cloth, came into view. The hands laid the cloth on his arm and Frederick immediately felt himself relax a little as the coolness spread.

The noises around him which had been dim and muffled as he blocked everything out, grew clearer as the moisture seeped through his shirt and onto his bare skin, giving momentary relief from the burning pain.

"Do you have a knife?" he heard a voice ask.

"Here," came a deeper voiced males reply. "This should do."

"Thank you Captain. Captain Wentworth?" the voice spoke to him. "I am going to cut the arm off your shirt so that we can get at your wounds easier. I hope it is not a favourite," she added quietly.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as she dug the knife into the seam where the arm of his shirt was sewn to the body. The thread gave way easily under the sharp metal edge of the small, well used knife.

"I will fetch a surgeon," the male voice - Harville, Frederick remembered - said.

"Stay Captain Harville," a new, but still very familiar voice said firmly. "Mr Elliot, please take my coach and fetch the surgeon, and send James to gather a bucket of water. Here," he heard several objects being moved. "This should suffice."

"I do not think,"

"Now please Mr Elliot." The voice was firm and brokered no argument.

There was more movement and Frederick became aware that at least one person left the room. Moments later the back door banged open and several voices could be heard.

Fredericks arm ached. Even with the woman with the cool cloth tenderly ministering to him, the pain still dominated his being and he had screwed up his eyes to try and block out everything else to try and master it.

Something banged onto the table beside him and he felt the small pair of hands take his right arm and lift it gently. "This will be cold," she warned, before submerging his whole arm in a cold bucket of water. He let out a small gasp. The water had obviously come from an outside water butt and even on a mild day in December, it was cold. It felt great against his skin though, and after several seconds, he let out a sigh as the heat began to leave his arm.

As his skin cooled, the pain lessened and he was able to take in more of the motion around him. The woman with the calm voice and gentle hands was Anne (should he have not known that already?). She stood by his side still, behind him on his right side, the damp cloth in her hand wetting the area of his arm not submerged.

Harville stood by the doorway, his gaze dancing from the kitchen to the small window by the sink, waiting for something or someone. Lady Russell was there as well, directing a finely dressed servant to bank the fire.

"Captain Harville," the Lady said, turning to his old friend. "Do you have a spare blanket? It would do us no good to cool Captain Wentworth down so much that he develops hypothermia." Harville was out of the door as soon as she had finished speaking, returning a few minutes later with a finely woven wool blanket. Lady Russell accepted the blanket from him and draped it around Fredericks shoulders. He was lucid enough by then to offer a quiet thank you.

"How is your arm?" Anne asked.

"Cold," he replied, following his declaration with a shudder that had her securing the blanket more securely around him. Not once did she stop bathing the top of his arm.

"I know but the water will help," she said.

"What happened Frederick?" Harville asked.

Wentworth shook his head. "I am not sure." He glanced about the room noting the table and the kettle, still laying on its side on the floor. The pain in his arm, though muted now, was still clouding his mind and thought, and he struggled to piece together the events prior to the burning water hitting his arm.

"I was…speaking with Mr Elliot about…Lyme." He spoke slowly and quietly, thinking carefully about what had really happened and how to voice it. In truth he was not completely sure what had occurred.

"How did the kettle fall Frederick?" Harville asked.

Frederick lifted his head and met his friends eyes directly. He could see that Harville had already come to his own conclusions.

"I placed it back on its stand after I used it," Frederick said. "I must not have set it back right, or I may have knocked the table as I went to stand." He shook his head. "I do not remember."

"Frederick," Harville said sternly.

"Honestly Harry, I do not."

Harville did not look convinced and stood glaring at his friend. Lady Russell who had been silently watching the exchange found herself speaking to the retired Naval Captain. "Surely you are not suggesting that this was anything but a terrible accident Captain Harville?"

"I voiced no such accusations ma'am, only that I find it strange that Captain Wentworth was injured in this way."

"And you believe Mr Elliot had something to do with it?"

"Again ma'am, I never said such a thing."

As soon as Harville began to speak Frederick felt Anne, who was still standing by this right shoulder, tense. At the same moment the blanket placed round his shoulders slipped and she pulled it back up with her free hand. Before she could remove her hand he reached his own up and captured her fingers with his. He felt her tense even more before, slowly, he felt her relax.

When he turned his attention back to the scene in front of him he was that Lady Russell was frowning.

"To my knowledge Mr Elliot and Captain Wentworth were not acquainted till this morning, what motivation could he have to hurt him?"

"You can not think of one?" Harville asked with a raised eyebrow. The answer was obvious to him.

The arrival of the surgeon with Captain Benwick following immediately on his heels, brought all other conversations to a stop. Benwick had been walking through the small town on several errands when he had happened past the surgeons home and seen the man hastily packing his bags onto a familiar coach. The surgeon had stopped just long enough to explain the situation and offer Benwick a ride back to the Harville residence.

The surgeon, with his prior knowledge of the house and its occupants (both permanent and temporary), immediately had everyone apart from Anne and Captain Harville leave the room.

Lady Russell left with little fuss, telling Anne quietly that she would head back to the inn and wait for news there. With that she slipped out of the back door and into the waiting carriage, her footman following her out. The room suddenly felt empty as Captain Benwick left as well.

Frederick still had a tight hold, with his good hand, to Anne's free one. Her other continued to wet the linen cloth and bathe his injured arm.

The surgeon took his time examining Frederick's arm. He asked questions of both of Frederick and Anne, he ran his fingers over the angry red discolouration and pressed down on the area's that caused him some concern.

"Despite the extensive damage to the skin there does not, as yet, seem to be any loss of movement or circulation. Captain Wentworth appears to have lost some feeling in the limb but I am hopeful that that will return in time. That he is clearly experiencing pain is a good, if not unpleasant, symptom."

"The arm should heal then?" Captain Harville asked. He knew better than anyone how an injury might effect Frederick's future in the Royal Navy.

"It is too early to tell if there will be no damage at all, but given that this is a wet burn, a scald, rather than a dry burn from say a wood fore or candle, I would say that Captain Wentworth should make a near complete recovery, if he is prevented from succumbing to a fever or infection."

He looked across at Anne before speaking directly to Frederick. "Thanks to Miss Elliot's quick thinking I shall say you will do very well. You can see yourself how your arm is now slightly blistered. Had your shirt arm still been attached it probably would have damaged the skin. Yes," he said nodding, "I say you should be very grateful she is here."

"I am," came Frederick's honest reply. He squeezed Anne's hand as he said this. "Very grateful."

His heart buoyed when he felt her grip his hand in return.

"It might be a little uncomfortable Captain Wentworth, but I would like you to keep your arm in the water for a little while longer." He got Frederick's compliance then spoke to Anne.

"I understand you will be leaving Lyme shortly Miss Elliot," he said. "If I teach you how to apply the bandages, will you show Mrs Harville?"

"Of course," she said.

The surgeon then went about pulling rolls of cloth bandage from his bag. Each individually wrapped in its own cotton pouch.

"I find it helps to keep everything clean," the surgeon said when he spotted them watching him. "There always seems to be less infection, less disease that way. On that note I will need you to change these regularly."

He examined Frederick's arm again and concurred with his first assessment. "A small amount of blistering," he said, looking closely. "But nothing too bad. You should take care not to burst them," he told Frederick directly. "There is nothing worse than peeling bandages off skin and taking half of the surface skin with you because the two have become joined."

Anne felt Frederick wince and ran her other hand over the back of his neck to calm him and felt him relax. In response he gave her hand encased in his own, a gentle squeeze before running his thumb over her knuckles.

"Do you remember - Harville?"

"Where you got cocky and allowed that youth to get within inches of gutting you?"

"Your memory of the event differs from mine my friend but yes. Do you also remember the trouble Matthews gave me when I would not follow his orders and take time to heal? I continually opened the wound and in the heat it would dry, stiff and stuck to the bandage. He would pull it off at the end of each night, no regard to my wellbeing."

"You did continually disregard his advice. He probably did it to try and teach you a lesson."

"Yes," said Frederick, flexing his hand in the cold water. "it taught me to have his assistant be the one to change the dressing."

"I hope you are more willing to listen to me," the surgeon said.

"I am willing to do anything you say Sir. So long as I can remove my arm from this ice hole."

The surgeon confirmed with Harville that the event had happened nearly twenty minutes previous and that Frederick had had his hand in the bucket of water only a minute or two after, the older man looked at Anne and asked her to fetch a dry cloth or towel.

Anne reluctantly let go of Frederick (and after a small tug he let go of her) to go and do as she was asked, and returned a moment later with a dry towel.

The surgeon opened his mouth to speak just as the front door slammed open and they all heard Margaret calling through to them. She appeared at the door to the kitchen a moment later looking harried.

"I met Lady Russell on the way and she told me what had happened. Are you well Frederick?"

"A little sore," he admitted as she came to stand by his side, laying an arm on his uninjured shoulder.

"I knew that buying that kettle was a bad idea," she said, removing her coat and shawl with Harville's assistance. "What did I tell you," she ranted on at her husband. "I wanted to go for the smaller one, but no, you thought that monstrosity would suit us better. Well, it will be on you if Frederick suffers because of this."

In her haste Margaret missed the glances traded by her husband and Frederick, and how Anne's gaze instantly dropped to the floor. She took her things from her husband and threw them over a nearby chair.

"Sir," she said, greeting the surgeon. "How is he?"

"Mrs Harville," the surgeon replied in greeting. "I believe my patient, from the way he has been acting, will make a full recovery. You have impeccable timing though as I was just about to show Miss Elliot how to apply the bandages and allow her to show you. But now that you are here I can show you as well."

"Of course," Margaret said, coming close.

"Captain, if you would remove your arm from the water please."

"Gladly."

Margaret hissed in sympathy when she saw Frederick's arm as he withdrew it from the water. It was clearly visible where the hot water had hit his skin, leaving angry red blotches.

"Miss Elliot if you would dry the Captains arm please. Carefully. Pat the skin rather than rub."

The surgeon relinquished his place in front of Frederick to her and Harville brought across another chair that she could sit on. Anne held out her hands, the towel draped between them and accepted his arm.

"Mrs Harville," the surgeon continued. "If you could help me prepare this bandage."

Though displaying a calm exterior Anne was in turmoil. The story Frederick had concocted when he had been able to speak, seemed wildly fabricated to her. She knew him and he was not clumsy. Add to that the presence of Mr Elliot and his whole attitude towards the incident - his lack of any great feeling at all - had her convinced that he was in some way involved. And she blamed herself.

Fredericks skin was cold beneath hers and as soon as he was dry she could not help but take his hand in her own two to try and warm it up.

"Are you in nay pain?" she asked as she watched him.

"It stings a little," he admitted. "But I have some very competent carers so I expect even that pain to disappear before long."

"You will not be wanting any opium then?" the surgeon asked.

Frederick shuddered. Anne, thinking he was cold, reached up and tucked the blanket more firmly around him.

"I have never had a good experience with opium. It makes me see things that are not there and talk incessantly about anything and everything. I did not like it one bit."

He kept to himself the waking nightmares that had shown his family and friends in various stages of disease, poverty and death. It had been one of the many times he had dreamt of Anne whilst at sea. Usually his dreams had been happy and it was only when he woke that the sadness and longing invaded, but the dreams he had experienced under the influence of the poppy had been heart breaking from the outset. He shuddered again. He would have to be in absolute agony to ever consider taking it again.

"How about some whiskey?" Harville asked.

"I could give my consent to some whiskey," the surgeon said with a smile.


	29. Chapter 29

I had most of this chapter written months ago then, in March, I lost someone very close to me after a long eight year struggle against cancer. Since then life, let alone writing, has been difficult. Though I think I'm finally moving on a little from the funk I've been in, and now seems like a good time to try again with this.

I'll give you a fair warning. Things may be a little stilted (or crap) towards the end of this chapter. Or maybe the whole thing? Not my best work but I really want to get this finished so I can move on with this as its so close to being finished.

I'm not usually so open about my personal life on here but thought you guys deserved to know why I'd disappeared. Its never nice to be left in the dark.

Thanks for sticking with me. It means a lot.

* * *

Sitting, watching Frederick attempt to remain still and silent as they worked on his arm grew too much for Anne and with a quick, quiet "excuse me", she had left the room, walked through the front room and out of the door.

"Anne?" Frederick called out.

The Harville's exchanged a glance.

"I believe that will do," the surgeon said, finishing of the bandage, "I think the patient could do with that drink now, Captain Harville."

Harville took his wife's place which allowed Margaret to grab her coat and follow Anne out of the house.

Frederick tried to stand. "I should," he began, before the surgeon pushed him back down.

"I am sure Mrs Harville is more than capable. The poor girl probably just needs a moment to herself. The last few weeks have been a strain. A little time to herself and I am sure she will be well."

Frederick settled back in the chair with a frustrated sigh and accepted a small glass of whiskey from Harville.

"Be honest with me Frederick," he said quietly, standing close as the surgeon busied himself at the sink, "What happened?"

"I honestly do not know."

"Frederick."

"Truthfully Harville. I remember talking and then the kettle was falling."

Harville frowned. "I have never known you to be clumsy."

"There was that time in Lisbon," Frederick said softly, smiling at the memory, "When I misjudged the steps to an Irish jig and collided with the refreshment table."

"I think that might have had something to do with the number of visits you had made to that table before you took part in the dancing." Harville replied with a look.

Frederick looked thoughtful. "You think he caused this," he said in the same quiet voice, gesturing towards his bandaged arm. Wincing with the movement.

"You do not?"

Frederick shook his head before bringing the glass of whiskey to his lips and downing the remnants. He held the empty glass out to Harville and his friend refilled it.

"He has made no secret of his reason for being here," Harville said, leaning against the table by Frederick, "You and I both know what that reason is, and he sees you as a threat Frederick. Especially since Benwick's engagement to Miss Louisa became public knowledge. He obviously knows the history Anne and you share."

Frederick scowled. "He believes he knows all the details. I did have to correct one or two of his assumptions."

"What are you going to do about him?"

He shook his head. "I am not sure. I suppose it would be too much to hope that, if I clear things up with Anne, that he will just disappear."

"He strikes me as a man who would employ underhand techniques to ensure he gets what he wants. You also can not forget that he is known and liked within the family, and that, to them, he would be the better choice. A future baronet and an estate." Harville looked at his friend. "Not that you would be a poor alternative. Knowing what type of man you are, I should imagine you have made a tidy fortune in your time in the navy but a titled man must always be preferred I should think."

"Are you trying to make me feel worse my friend?"

"I am merely being honest Frederick. I want nothing more than for you to sort everything out with Anne and sail off into the sunset for a life together that is full of joy, love and happiness, but before that happens I suspect that you will face several obstacles. The main one being Elliot. He has already shown what he is capable of and I am worried you are not taking him seriously enough."

"I do not think you have to worry about that anymore Harville," Frederick said, shifting his injured arm against his chest before taking a gulp of his whiskey.

* * *

Anne felt like she was struggling to breath, trapped in the house. Out the door she took a left and headed along by the harbour and out onto the Cobb. The pleasant day had persisted and Anne found the gentle breeze cooling.

She came to the end of the solid stone walkway relatively soon and found a spot to sit on an upturned box.

The tide was slowly making its way into the harbour. Lifting the moored fishing boats from the sandy bottom to float, ready to go and harvest from the sea.

It took Anne a while to gather her thoughts into some semblance of order. She had wanted to stay at the Harville's, with Frederick, but in that moment it had all gotten too much and she had felt as though she was fighting through a strong current of water. It had been difficult to draw breath and she just had to get out of there.

Though pleasant for the time of year, it was not warm and as she began to shiver as she sat. She cursed her own behaviour in running out of the Harville's without a coat or, at very least, a shawl.

She started violently when she felt something draped over her shoulders. Turning she saw Margaret holding out her coat. Anne took it gratefully. The added layer restoring her warmth. Margaret sat down beside her and unfurled a woollen blanket which she spread across their laps.

"I did not think you would want to return to the house so soon, so I thought we might as well be comfortable while we wait." the other woman said kindly.

"I'm sorry," Anne said after a while.

"Do not be silly dear, you have nothing to be sorry for." Margaret said. "After all you have been through over the past couple of weeks, I am surprised you have not needed to escape before now."

Anne hung her head. Around them the harbour was coming to life. Fishermen where hauling carefully wrapped nets onto boats, lining up crabbing pots and standing together on the highest point of the Cobb to survey the clouds gathering out to sea.

"I always like to come out here when I have a moment to myself," Margaret said as she took a look about. "My favourite spot is right on the edge of the Cobb, right by the harbour mouth. On a clear day you can see for miles around. Once or twice I have even spotted a ship heading out into the Atlantic or round to Portsmouth. The breeze is lovely and cooling too. Especially during the summer months."

"It is beautiful out here," Anne said quietly.

"I have always found that, wherever I am, it is nice to have that one place to go to be on my own for a while. A place to take a deep breath and let out the frustrations of the life. Do you have somewhere like that at Kellynch?" Margaret asked, turning her head towards her companion.

Anne smiled. "Anywhere past the manicured gardens. My father, when he was outside at Kellynch, preferred the shaded patio or ornate stone benches under the willow trees. My elder sister would occasionally stroll about the flower beds. Mainly to ensure that the flowers matched the current "season" colours but she would never go any further than the gravel paths for fear of ruining her shoes. And Mary preferred being indoors, unless there was something going on outside. That left the majority of the grounds and surrounding countryside for my own pleasure."

"As much as I like the seaside, I would love to spend some time in the country. Perhaps when our lease is up on this house I could convince Harry to move to a small village somewhere, even for half a year."

"Now that I have seen the sea, I doubt I will feel at home anywhere else."

"It is mesmerising, is it not? And when you have a Navel man to share it with, it becomes even more fascinating." Margaret glanced at Ann then to notice the flush that appeared on her cheeks. "I do not mean to pry, and you can tell me to mind my own business if you wish, but what is going on between Frederick and you?"

The flush on Anne's cheeks intensified and Margaret thought she had maybe been too direct but as she went to retract her question Anne spoke.

"I do not know," she said so quietly that Margaret had to lean in closer to hear her. "Every time I think we have settled into a relationship, whether that be as strangers or acquaintances, an event occurs to change it all."

"What would you like it to be?"

Anne smiled ruefully. "I think that, to use a nautical term, that ship has sailed on what I would like it to be. We can never be what we once where. I assume…Captain Harville is such good friends with Frederick, I take it you know that we were…acquainted eight years ago?"

Margaret nodded. "I have heard Frederick's side of it," Anne hung her head before bringing it back up with curiosity as Margaret continued. "And I have also heard him speak recently, about you and his hopes for the future. Not to mention his self berating when he realised how idiotic he has been acting in relation to you."

"I can not blame him for acting as such."

"You should," came the very quick reply. "If not for your sake, then for Louisa's. The poor girl was nearly caught in a marriage that, though I am sure she would have been happy in, was not really meant for her. And Frederick. I am sure he would have been the dutiful husband, but there would have always been a small part of him wondering what might have been, if he had taken another path and he never would have been truly happy. When you meet the one you are meant to be with there is something in side of you that just clicks, and to not have that once you found it."

Margaret shook her head. "I almost married another man. He was my fathers apprentice and I have no doubt that we would have had a good life together but then I met Harry and everything just seemed…brighter and clearer. If left alone we could talk for hours and even if there was nothing to say then the silence was comforting. Though our life has not always been easy I am glad I made the choice that I did."

She stopped hear and faced Anne directly, waiting till the younger woman looked her straight in the eye. "You have to decide what you want. If you can forgive him, and he can forgive himself, I believe Frederick will be everything you want him to be and more. If you can not get past the faults in his behaviour towards you and the Musgrove girls, then perhaps it is time to tell him so. Give the both of you some finality to be able to move on. With Mr Elliot waiting impatiently on the side I believe you could have that accomplished within two months."

"Mr Elliot? What does he have to do with anything?"

"My dear Anne, why do you think he is here? He has not come for the cockles nor I should think the off season entertainment, of which there is very little. No, his attentions to you are clearly marked. He means to offer for you."

Anne looked away distractedly. She had believed her cousin was attempting to curry favour within the family, but as to offer for her. She could not quite believe it though the more she now thought about it, the more she saw it. The way Lady Russell had spoken of him for one and the way in which both he and Frederick postured towards each other. Frederick had clearly seen a rival in the Elliot heir.

With her head now spinning of all the little bits she had missed. The words, the glances and the small touches on her arm and lower back. The conversations about her favourite books and poems, the plans he had mentioned for the upkeep of Kellynch.

As Anne attempted to deal with it all, her thoughts suddenly came to a halt and she outwardly gasped, her hand shooting out to grasp at Margaret's arm.

"What is it?" the other woman asked. "Are you alright?"

"In the kitchen…Frederick…do you think?"

"Do I think Mr Elliot had something to do with it?" Margaret asked. Anne nodded. "I would not like to cast blame where I had no proof. But that kettle has never fallen before."

Anne shook her head. "I find it difficult to believe he would do something like that."

"Sometimes desperate men, do desperate things. What does he have to lose? What does he gain? They all factor in."

"I can not believe that obtaining my hand in marriage is something in which he can not lose."

"Maybe not your hand alone but everything that you come with and that is connected to you. If I may be blunt about it then perhaps he has realised that your family, and how they act now, will have implications on how he will live later on in life. Did you not say yourself that a marriage between your families was expected."

"Yes," Anne answered, "But with my eldest sister."

"Well, having never met your sister I can not say anything for or against her, but I do know you and I know that, if I where in Mr Elliot's position, you would be the more tempting of the two."

"But Elizabeth's beauty,"

"Is nothing against your charm and grace. Your kindness, intelligence and level head. Though he may seek them out at first, a man wants more than empty looks in his wife. Well, most do." Margaret smiled as Anne looked away bashfully, "And to top it all off you know nothing of your own self worth. Here I am telling you the honest truth and any moment now you will open that mouth of yours and publicly deny it all."

"I shall try and be silent."

"Good," Margaret said, reaching her hands out to take Anne's. "Anne please, think carefully on all we have talked about and do not make any hasty decisions. I believe that the next few days will decide the rest of your life and though it might not please everyone, I hope that you pick the path that makes you the happiest." With that she grabbed Anne and pulled her into a hug. "You understand of course, that I am rooting for Frederick."

Anne pulled away with a laugh and wiped at her eyes.

"Come now," Margaret said, standing up and folding the blanket over her arm. "If we do not return home soon then we will be eating a very, very late dinner."

* * *

Frederick was resting in Harville's room when Anne and Mrs Harville returned to the house.

The surgeon, who had long since departed, had left a satchel of bandages and instructions written neatly on a piece of paper, for their use. Harville, who had been sitting in his usual chair in the parlour, stood when they came in and cast a questioning look at his wife.

"All is well," she said, taking off her coat and helping Anne with hers before hanging them both up. "Anne just needed a little fresh air. You know how stuffy that kitchen gets at times." she looked over at him with a smile, "Then again, maybe you do not."

"I do more than my fair share," he said, dropping a kiss on her cheek as she came to him.

"Has Frederick?" Margaret started to say.

"He is resting upstairs," Harville replied, interrupting her. "If we take in any more friends my love, we might as well open a boarding house. What do you think Miss Elliot? Harville's Humble House, open to all."

"I would give it my recommendation Captain. I do not think I have ever had such a pleasant stay."

"Don't be giving him any more idea's Anne. He has more than enough to be getting on with, that net for Mr Maguire to be getting on with for starters. Then the wooden tops for Alexander's and the chair for Mrs Anderson."

As the Harville's stood together smiling Anne felt a tug in her chest. Of all the marriages she had seen in her life, the Harville's was the one that, should she marry, she most hoped to emulate.

The husband and wife began to talk of dinner as Anne watched them, and her mind drifted to all that had happened over the past couple of weeks. Of the meetings and talks, of the introductions and incidents and of the man at the heart of it all.

With one glance towards the chattering couple Anne quietly made her way across the room and onto the stairs, taking each one carefully but determinately. It was time to stop avoiding the subject, and speak clearly and plainly about what they both wanted.

With that thought in her head Anne stood outside the door she knew belonged to Captain Harville's room. With one deep inhale of breath she raised her hand and knocked. Once. Twice, before a voice from inside called on her to enter.


End file.
